The Enemy
by prepare4trouble
Summary: Edgar finds himself fighting a war on two fronts when a power vacuum leads to an explosion in the vampire population at the same time as he finds himself learning how to cope with his own set of fangs.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N – I must be insane, starting another multi-chapter fic while I'm still writing the last one. But this one just wouldn't leave me alone. I'm honestly not sure whether it's any good. I just love messing with Edgar's head, and what better way to do it than this?_

_Not sure how often this will be updated, don't think it'll be as long as my other current story, and I'd love to know what people think of the idea, because to be honest, I'm not sure myself!_

_Also, I don't own the Lost Boys._

* * *

The Enemy

Night time was actually kind of beautiful. He had never stopped to think about it before. In Santa Carla, the night was all about bright lights, spinning and flashing in time to the beat of the music that could be heard for miles around. The crush of a thousand tourists all trying to occupy one small space, street sellers advertising ear piercing and tattoos, or cotton candy, popcorn, ice cream. The loud rumble as the roller coaster swept past, the screams of the riders. It was all too loud, too bright, and too false.

By the time he had finally left the bright lights behind, the night had already taken on a different kind of meaning to him. The darkness wasn't safe. The creatures that lurked within it were constantly poised to pounce and to kill. The night was cold and dark and full of evil, and he alone stood against it, protecting the innocent from the horrors, allowing them to live to enjoy those bright lights and loud sounds.

He had never been able to just stop and look around, take a deep breath and enjoy the stillness of the night, the way the darkness somehow accentuated the beauty of his surroundings. The old, sick looking tree not far from his trailer changed when the sun set. The tiniest hint of light from the moon or the stars illuminated it from behind, displaying its bare branches in sharp, dark contrast to the sky above. Everything was like that now. His eyes were so much sharper.

Every sense was so much more powerful. It was as though until now he had been deaf and blind, and suddenly a veil had been lifted and he could see everything, hear everything. Even his sense of smell was stronger.

He was the perfect predator.

The perfect monster.

He took a deep breath and inhaled the night air. Soon, it would be over. He would be human again. In the back of his mind, where he kept the thoughts to which he didn't dare give voice, he wondered whether that was truly what he wanted. It was the monster inside talking, of course, or so he told himself. It was a dangerous thought, whatever the source. Blood's sweet temptation grew stronger night after night, and he could keep it at bay, but there was always that danger that one night his control would waver and the evil would take over.

He was the good guy. If he truly became one of the monsters, who would step into his shoes and hold the darkness at bay?


	2. Chapter 2

_Before:_

The night was finally coming to an end.

Edgar wondered whether things really were getting worse, or whether he was just starting to feel his age. Once he could have spent all night fighting, gone home for a few hours of rest, then got on with daytime life before the sun set and it all started over. Tonight, and the last few nights, he had come home exhausted and slept through to the next sunset.

He turned the faucet and ran his hand under the water as it gradually cooled. The water that ran off down the drain was filthy with the byproducts of battle. He grabbed a glass from the rack, held it under the cold water and filled it to overflowing. He glanced briefly at the garlic and the eggs, but decided he wasn't in the mood for Frog juice at the moment. He needed something that wouldn't make him want to retch. He took a long, refreshing swig, and collapsed onto the couch.

Before his hand had the chance to dry, he rubbed his palms quickly together to spread the water, and then scrubbed them on the rough surface of his pants legs. "You'd think taking out the head vampire would mean there were less bloodsuckers, not more," he muttered. Under the light of the fluorescent bulb above, he examined his hands. They were still filthy, literally encrusted with dirt and grime. The rest of him probably didn't look much better. "It seems we've been working flat out all night every night and we're not making a dent in the population."

Alan reclined at the other side of the sofa. His head rested back on the top of the cushion, and and his eyes were half closed. He looked like Edgar felt. "Probably removing the master for this area means the others are going after the top spot," he suggested. "Sooner or later, someone'll win and it'll settle down."

Edgar put his drink down on the table and stared at his brother. "Wait. Are you telling me you think killing the head vampire has made things worse?"

Alan got wearily to his feet and opened the blinds of Edgar's trailer. In the distance, the sun was beginning to rise, and the sky on the horizon was painted red and yellow. He stood and looked outside, watching as the light grew brighter. "Not for all the people at the rave that we freed," he said.

"Well, okay, yeah. But are you saying you knew this would happen?" Edgar demanded.

Alan shook his head slowly from side to side, thoughtfully. He turned around to look at Edgar before he replied. "Not exactly," he said eventually, "but now that it has, it makes perfect sense."

"Well thanks for the heads up." Edgar put his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands, giving him a nice, steady glare, which he fixed on his brother.

"It only occurred to me now," Alan insisted. "I had other things on my mind. I've recently become human again, in case you'd forgotten."

Edgar's eyebrow twitched upwards.

"I was readjusting."

"That's just great."

Alan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through pursed lips. "Edgar, I've been hiding away from the world for five years, drinking animal blood to survive, avoiding people because the temptation to bite was almost too much to handle. I've been sleeping in the day, spending the nights hating myself. I barely saw the sun the whole time because it made me so weak. Suddenly, I'm free. So yeah, I had other things on my mind." He paused and shrugged, "You didn't think of it either."

Edgar stared. This was the first time Alan had spoken openly about his experiences as a half vampire. In the months since he had been back, he had remained mercifully close-lipped on the subject. He didn't want to talk about it, and Edgar didn't want to know. He already had enough nightmares to last him a lifetime. His brother had been through five years of hell, Edgar knew that, and that was enough for both of them. It was an unspoken agreement that had worked very well for them so far. Now Alan had just broken it, opening the floor to all kinds of questions Edgar didn't want to know the answer to.

"Fine," Edgar got to his feet and paced the small area of floor space, keeping his eyes on Alan as he did. "So the vampires are at war, and it doesn't look like they're just taking it out on one another, so the question is, what are we going to do about it?"

He eyed Alan expectantly, hoping for an exited declaration of death to all vampires, half expecting him to refuse to have anything to do with it, thinking the risk of reinfection too great. What he got was a reluctant nod and a sigh.

"I suppose we'll have to take care of it."

"You suppose?"

Alan turned back to the window. The sun was just making its first appearance.

The vampires would already be hidden away for the day They had around thirteen hours of daylight at this time of year. After that, they would rise and continue to feed and to spread their evil to new victims. A war needed soldiers, and judging by the numbers of new vampires they had been seeing recently, innocent people were being taken for that purpose. New half vampires, most of them not as... lucky... as Alan had been, not understanding what had happened to them and how to resist the bloodlust, would feel the almost irresistible urge to kill, and they would quickly act on it.

"We need to find out who the new potential masters are, and destroy them. We've got no choice," Alan said resignedly. "In a way, we did this. We have to fix it."

Edgar shook his head. "We didn't do this. The vampires did it all themselves, we cleaned up one mess, now we have to clean up another. And fast, before things really start to turn to shit."

Alan gave him one of his half smiles and shook his head. "I think they probably already have," he said. He opened the door and stepped outside. "I'll be back before dark," he promised. "The sooner we take care of this, the fewer people get turned, and the easier it'll be."

Edgar watched him go, then drained the last of his water, walked into his tiny bathroom and switched on the shower. The water that swirled around his feet before it ran away down the drain was red.

* * *

Both the vampires were fairly new. Alan could tell by the still human color in their faces. It was subtly different from that of a vampire that had recently fed, though these two had definitely fed recently as well. The evidence of their most recent kill was literally all over their faces, smeared red around their lips, and on their clothes and hands.

That was another way that he knew they were new. Experienced vampires weren't such messy eaters. They had probably left the bodies discarded where they fed too. He wondered whether the blood that covered them was from their first kill, whether just a few short hours ago they had been half vampires as he had been, with human minds not understanding the horrible thing that had happened to them.

He felt a surge of pity for the creatures. He squashed it down with practiced speed. Whatever and whoever they had been before tonight, now they were monsters, concerned with nothing but the pursuit of more blood in an endless quest to quench their insatiable thirst.

They were strong. All vampires were. His time as a half vampire had allowed him to forget just how fragile the human body was in comparison to the things that hunted it. He was still re-learning his own limitations. The first vampire, one that had been a young man in his twenties before he had been changed, still wearing the vacation casual clothes he had been wearing when he was changed, came at him with a growl, teeth bared, ready to bite.

Alan ducked, and the vampire flew over his head, landing a few feet behind him before he ran at him again. He was an inexperienced fighter, not understanding what he could do with his new strength or the ability to fly. Alan himself could have done better if their positions were reversed.

He pulled the stake from the holster at his belt and turned just in time to for the vampire to run straight into it. The metal spike easily pierced his chest and he fell to the ground as he crumbled into fine gray dust.

"Shit," he muttered. No chance to ask him who his master was, if he even knew. Maybe Edgar would have more luck with the other one. Alan retrieved the stake from the gray smear on the ground as the light breeze caught it and began to carry it away. The weapon was completely clean. He turned to Edgar to see whether he was finished.

The vampire his brother was fighting paused in horror as she watched her partner disintegrate. Her face contorted into anger. Her long, dark hair was matted with blood, and with her sharp teeth on display she looked every bit the monster from the horror movies they had grown up watching. Edgar pulled out his stake and charged her. A horrible scream was ripped from her throat. Alan turned briefly away, surveying the area. The screams could have attracted more vampires, or even humans, though they would be more likely to run in the other direction. Finding the location clear, he turned back to Edgar just in time to see everything go wrong.

The scream had not been pain as the vampire died, but rage at the death of the other vampire. She had taken to the air, and Alan turned as she swooped down to Edgar and lifted him from the ground. He watched in horror as his brother struggled helplessly in the air. His stake was still held firmly in his right hand, and he swung it toward her.

"No!" Alan screamed. If Edgar killed the vampire at that height, he would fall to the ground. There was a chance he would survive the impact, but not without terrible injury. Edgar ignored or didn't hear his cry. He stabbed randomly at the vampire. The stake pierced her wrist, and then her shoulder, and Alan watched in horror as she squeezed his hand until he released the weapon, and then brought her wounded arm to his mouth.

Edgar struggled harder still, punching and kicking and trying to escape, paying no attention to the height from which he would drop. With his uninjured left hand, he pulled a second stake from his holster and thrust it forwards. This time he hit his target.

As Alan watched, spreading outward from the wound, the vampire's skin turned to gray. She screamed in agony and fell from the sky, bringing Edgar down with her. They landed several yards from Alan with a loud cracking sound as the granite statue that had once been a vampire broke into thousands of pieces.

He rushed to his brother. Edgar was laying on the ground among the gray and the black dust. He was still breathing, just beginning to move. He managed, slowly and painfully to turn himself around and push himself into an almost sitting position. His skin was covered with deep cuts from the landing. His right hand was crushed and swollen, clearly broken.

Edgar saw Alan's approach and rolled away, attempting to get to his feet, but instead landed in a trembling heap on the ground. His lips and the skin around them were coated with the blood that had been forced onto him. Alan prayed that by some miracle, Edgar hadn't allowed the poison to enter his mouth, but he already knew from the terror in his brother's eyes that it had.

He remembered that feeling of utter helplessness. The knowledge that what was done was done; that there was nothing that could undo it short of the death of the head vampire. Faced with the knowledge of what he was becoming, Alan had chosen to flee rather than stay and face his brother as something other than human. Some irrational part of his mind had even feared what Edgar might do to him. Edgar, who had always preached 'death to all vampires'.

Edgar, who was even now beginning to feel the change.

He reached out to touch him, tentatively. His fingertips brushed his brother's arm, and Edgar flinched further back.

His teeth were stained with blood. Vampire blood.

"Don't..." Edgar whispered.

It didn't sound like his brother. It was his voice, but it trembled in fear. Edgar was afraid of nothing except... except for the thing that had just happened.

"Edgar, it's okay. We'll kill the head vampire. You'll be fine. You'll see."

His reassuring words did nothing to appease the terror, he knew from experience that nothing could do that, but they seemed to have some affect, because his brother began to move. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the ground, climbing to his feet as though every small movement was a struggle.

The blood around his mouth was still wet, it seemed to shine, reflecting the light of the half moon. Edgar wiped it away with the bottom of his t-shirt and looked up, meeting Alan's concerned gaze with his own terrified one.

"I feel strange," he said.

He spat the remnants of the blood in his mouth onto the ground where it mingled with the remains of its previous owner.

"I know. It'll be okay."

Edgar shook his head. "How can it possibly be okay?"

"We'll kill the head vampire. We'll..." he stopped, Edgar was still shaking his head.

"We don't even know who the head vampire is. That's what this whole power struggle is about."

"Then we'll kill them all. Death to all vampires, remember?"

A kind of calm seemed to come over his brother and he nodded. "Maximum body count."

Alan turned away for a second to check the area again, when he turned back, Edgar had picked up a stake from the ground and was holding it to his own chest with his uninjured hand, the tip lined up perfectly to his heart.

"Edgar, no!"

Alan sprung forward to where his brother was kneeling and knocked the stake to the ground before Edgar was able to strike. Edgar moaned in frustration and reached for it again.

"No," Alan stood down hard on the metal spike, the weight of his body holding it firmly in place on the ground as Edgar's fingers grasped uselessly at it.

"Alan, please!"

Edgar made one final attempt to pick up the stake before he surrendered and rolled away, defeated. Alan picked up the weapon and tucked it in his belt, safe. He picked up the other one from the ground too, then he bent down and wrapped an arm around his brother, helping him to his feet. A functional embrace. That he could stand at all was proof that he had been changed, and of the regenerative abilities of the half vampire body.

Edgar simply allowed himself to be led to the truck for a few steps, before without warning, he pushed himself away, stumbling and almost falling backwards from the force of his own escape. He righted himself quickly, and stood alone. "Keep back," he said, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper. "Are you insane? You don't get so close to a vampire!"

That was good advice, but not yet. Edgar would begin to feel the bloodlust soon, and there was nothing that Alan would be able to do to protect him from that. Soon Edgar would know all the horror that Alan had wanted to keep from him.

"Just get in the truck," he ordered.

Edgar hesitated for a moment, and then complied. He limped to the passenger side door, and opened it with his left hand. His broken right hung uselessly by his side. Once inside, he fished in his pocket and handed the keys to Alan. "If I attack you, you know what to do," he said.

Alan nodded. Edgar wouldn't attack. Not yet. But there was no point having a discussion about that right now.

He started up the engine, and Edgar turned away from him, rested his head against the window and closed his eyes tightly. He didn't open them until the truck pulled up outside his home.

* * *

Edgar woke slowly. His body responded sluggishly and the morning light hurt his eyes. After considerable effort, he managed to throw an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. He groaned. His head hurt. In fact, his whole body hurt.

"How're you doing over there?"

"Ugh?" Edgar moved the arm covering his face for long enough to squint across his trailer to where Alan was sitting at the table, looking at him with concern.

"Feeling okay?"

"What the hell were we drinking last night?" Edgar forced himself to push back the covers and sit on the side of the bed. His right hand ached a little and felt stiff. He flexed the fingers experimentally. There didn't appear to be any major damage. In his mind, he attempted to retrace his steps the previous night in his mind, trying to remember which barkeeper had taken all his money. He drew a blank. He had been hunting last night, not drin... "Oh shit."

He heard his voice crack as panic descended and he again squinted across the room.

Alan remained where he was, watching him closely. "You'll feel like crap while the sun's up," he said quietly. "When it sets, you'll feel hungry."

Edgar shook his head, trying to deny the memories of the previous night even as they flooded back to him.

"It's okay," Alan assured him. He frowned, "Well, not okay, but... manageable. Believe me, I'm an expert. We have two potential head vampires, we need to kill them, maybe just one of them if we pick right first time, and you'll be human again."

"I always said I'd kill myself if this ever happened."

Alan shrugged. "We both said that. We're both liars. You're going to have to live with that, because I won't let you die."

Edgar took a deep, shaking breath and dragged an arm across his damp brow. "We just need to kill the head vampire," he said. "No big deal, we've done it before, right?"

"Right," Alan agreed. "Now go back to sleep. You'll be no good for anything until the sun sets."

Edgar wanted to argue, but even through the closed blinds, the light hurt his eyes. They begged him to close them, while his muscles refused to respond in the way that he wanted them too. He allowed his body to sink back into his battered old mattress, which felt at this moment like the finest, softest bed he had ever lain on, and fell immediately into blissful unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

It was mid morning. California's relentless summer sun was already beating down hard onto the golden sand of one of San Cazador's quieter beaches.

Alan's hand swept absently over the warm surface of the sand. His fingers burrowed deeper, to discover the cooler, more densely packed area underneath, shielded from the light and heat. The sun's warmth surrounded him. His black t-shirt and dark hair greedily absorbed as much as they could, while the heat that had soaked into the sand before he sat, seeped upwards through the fabric of his jeans.

Warmth relaxed his aching muscles and he felt his eyelids close, as though of their own accord. He tilted back his head, exposing his face to the sun, and inhaled slowly breathing in the salty tang in the air.

In the distance, where the ocean met the beach, children were playing on wet sand and in shallow water. He could hear their happy screams and bursts of laughter, and the excited barking of a dog joining in with the fun as it ran in and out of the breaking waves. Beyond them and a little further over, in the deeper water, surfers were floating on their boards, waiting for the larger waves to ride.

Until recently, he had never understood the appeal of the beach. He had grown up looking out over the vast expanse of the Pacific ocean, and the thin strip of sand that separated it from the homes and businesses of the town. He had seen people, tourists and locals alike, greasing themselves down and laying for hours in the oppressive summer heat, sweating and turning red until they had no choice but to dive into the water for some respite. He had witnessed hours wasted, and he had wondered why.

It wasn't until he had been denied the sunlight that he realized how much he missed it.

The beach in the daytime epitomized everything that was good in the world. Families went there just to spend time together. Friends treated it as a place to hang out, surfers needed its waves to enjoy their passion. And above each person, was the sun, beating down on them, warming them, sustaining life.

It was absolutely his favorite place in the world.

But today, there was no enjoyment to be found here. He felt as though the life had been sucked out of everything, leaving it bleak, colorless and cold. The presence of the sun reminded him of his years in the dark, which in turn made him think of Edgar. Until they could free his brother, Alan knew he couldn't enjoy this human pleasure. He didn't even want to try. He was here simply because this was where he came to think. He didn't want to be alone at home right now, and he didn't have anywhere else to go.

Despite the heat, he drew his arms around his body and shivered. The chill seemed to come from somewhere inside him. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help Edgar.

He had no words that could even begin to reassure him. Any that he tried to offer would sound hollow and false. His brother was changing into something else, something unnatural and evil, a creature of the night; the very thing that he had dedicated his life to destroying. Alan remembered the horror of that knowledge; the way it gnawed at his insides and slowly wore him down until the person that he had been almost completely disappeared under the constant assault of self-loathing and the dread that one night he would finally lose control and with it, lose himself completely.

Nothing could make it better except for the death of the head vampire. And quickly, because once the vampire rot set in, it changed you in ways that couldn't be reversed. Deep inside, Alan knew he was no longer the person he had been before. He didn't want that for Edgar. He didn't want any of this for him.

But it had happened, and he didn't know how to help.

The beach, with its warmth and light and happiness was quickly losing its appeal. Alan got to his feet and brushed the sand from his jeans, then he began to make his way toward the town of San Cazador.

* * *

For over an hour, he wandered the streets in aimless circles, knowing that he needed to go home and sleep, regain his strength for the night that was fast approaching, but knowing that if he tried to tempt it, sleep would refuse to come.

Finally, as he began to consider going home, he looked up to find himself walking past the window of Book O'Neer. Peering through the window, he could see Edgar's friend inside, sitting behind the desk. She didn't see him, all of her attention was focused on something on the desk in front of her. The pen in her hand tapped continuously on a sheet of paper.

Zoe had been an unexpected development in his brothers life, for so many reasons. Alan still wasn't entirely sure what she was to Edgar. A friend, certainly. Possibly more. But a vampire hunter can't have a normal life. That was what Edgar had always said, and he had compulsively practiced what he preached. Friends were a luxury that could be used against you. He had found that out the hard way when Sam had been turned. His brother had no intention of endangering anyone else.

But Zoe was determined not to be kept at arm's length, and slowly but surely, she was working her way into his life. More that once, she had turned up unannounced at Edgar's trailer. Right now, that would be a very bad thing for everyone. Alan paused just beyond the shop's window, where he couldn't be seen, and thought quickly. Edgar would hate it if he thought Alan was spending the day running around town telling people what had happened, but she did need to be informed.

Walking through the door of the shop was like taking a step into the past. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was back in his parents' store in Santa Carla, back when it had been him and Edgar against the world, defending the store from thieves and the night from vampires.

The air contained a hint of that old paper smell that comes when dusty old comic books are left for too long in a hot, sunlit room. At busy times of the day, the shop was filled customers, groups of kids chatting excitedly to one another about the latest exploits of their favorite heroes, others, older people usually, stood alone as they flicked through the pages of the comic book before they made a purchase. It was so familiar. It felt like home.

But it wasn't his parents' shop, it wasn't Santa Carla, and a lot had happened since then. To say he wasn't the same person any more would be a laughable understatement.

As he pushed open the door, Zoe's pen tapping stopped and she glanced up briefly from the desk to see who had disturbed her quiet. She smiled at him, but her eyes frowned. "Not the Frog I was expecting," she said. "What brings you here?"

Alan took a few steps into the shop, trying to formulate the correct words in his head before he attempted to verbalize the horror of the night before. The door closed behind him. Zoe's frown deepened.

"Edgar running late?" she tried.

Alan stared at her.

"For lunch. He was supposed to meet me a half hour ago. He's not the most reliable guy, but you'd think he'd call if he's going to stand me up..." her words tailed off as she looked up again and noticed the expression on Alan's face. The ballpoint pen in her hand dropped to the desk and for a moment she just looked at him. "Oh, God," she said. She nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "What's happened?"

He shook his head and glanced around the shop, checking to be absolutely certain that there were no customers who might overhear. Not surprising for a mid morning the day before the new comics arrived, it was completely empty. He remembered things like that from two lives ago.

He rested his hands on the desk in front of her, and noticed as he did that next to the order form that she had been systematically covering with blue dots, was a new issue of Vampires Everywhere. He didn't even realize they were still bringing that one out. The vampire on the cover was screaming in agony as the hunter pierced his heart with a traditional wooden stake from behind. It protruded graphically through the front of his chest. The image made him uneasy.

"Edgar..." he began.

"What?" Zoe stood up to allow her to lean forward toward him. Her eyes were wide with undisguised worry. "What's happened to him? He... please don't tell me he's dead."

Alan shook his head firmly from side to side, and she appeared to relax slightly. "No, he's not dead. But something happened last night. A vampire... got him. It forced him to drink..." He stopped talking and forced a deep breath into his lungs. Even just saying it was so hard. This wasn't supposed to happen to Edgar. He took a deep breath. "He killed the one that did it, but she wasn't the master. He's a half vampire."

He watched the words sink in, as she stared at him at first uncomprehendingly, and then with disbelief and finally horror, all of it focused directly onto him, as she stared unblinkingly in his direction. Her head moved slowly from side to side. Finally, she spoke. "Is he okay?"

Alan frowned. "He's a half vampire," he repeated.

"Right. Right." Zoe sank back onto the wooden stool behind the counter, still staring at Alan. "So, not okay."

"Not really, no."

She glanced over the desk in front of her, straightened the pile of unsorted comics, picked up her pen and put it down again, then she took a deep breath and looked back up at Alan. "He will be though, won't he? We're going hunting. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Alan hesitated. She was small, and she didn't look like she would be much use in a fight, but she had proven herself before. And she had Edgar's trust, enough for him to take her with him into a vampire's lair. He had only meant to tell her what had happened, but she actually might be good to have as an ally. She also had other unspecified talents that made her potentially useful to have on his team. On the other hand, he didn't want to put her in any unnecessary danger.

"We don't know who the head vampire is yet," he said. "Once we do..." he deliberately allowed his words to tail off into silence, making no promises either way.

Zoe nodded. She reached under the desk and lifted a small purse, fished in it for a few seconds and retrieved her car keys. She got to her feet again.

"Zoe, what are you doing?"

She looked at him levelly. "I'm going to see Edgar," she said.

"What?" Alan shook his head and wondered whether he had made a mistake coming here. He had thought that telling Zoe what had happened would reduce the chances of her turning up on Edgar's doorstep, not increase them.

Her jaw set determinedly and she stared at him. Her hand clutched the keys as though she thought he was going to confiscate them.

Alan could have kicked himself. He had been expecting to tell her what had happened, and then leave her to get on with her day, but of course she wouldn't accept that. She wanted to help him fight, and denied the chance for the time being, she wanted help Edgar with words and kindness. The things that Alan knew wouldn't help.

"Don't," he said.

She stared him in the eye. "Why not?"

"It's not safe."

Zoe shook her head. "If it happened last night, it's too soon for him to be an danger to anyone, unless they slice a vein open and wave it in his face, he's not going to attack. And it's daylight, so even if he is hungry, the sunlight weakens half vampires, I'll be able to get away if I need to."

She attempted to walk past him to the door, keys in her hand, ready to lock up as she left.

"You're right. You know your stuff," he conceded. "But I know it too, better than most people. I also know exactly how a half vampire feels when he's woken in the daytime, and believe me, it's not like entertaining guests. And I know Edgar. He won't want to be seen right now, I only told you so you'd stay away.

She shook her head and began to respond as she tried once again to leave the shop

"If you go," Alan interrupted before she could say anything, "he might find out about you."

She turned back to him, her face suddenly a mask. "Find out what?"

"You know what," Alan told her. He hoped she did. It would be unfortunate if the something inhuman he had sensed about the girl the first time they had met was something that she didn't know about. This would be a less than ideal way for her to find out.

Zoe froze, lost in thought for a moment. She looked from Alan to the door and back to Alan. "How?" she asked finally.

Alan took a deep breath. "The same way I did."

She walked the couple of steps back to her seat and sank down onto it. "Half vampire senses," she muttered to herself.

Alan watched her closely. Until now, he had wondered whether Zoe realized he knew her secret. Her relatively calm reaction told him that she had at least suspected.

He had kept quiet about it. He justified that to himself by the fact that she was almost dating his brother. He did it to protect Edgar. For the first time in a long time, his brother had seemed as though he was almost happy. It wasn't all down to Zoe, of course, but a lot of it was. Finding out the woman he refused to accept was his girlfriend wasn't human would ruin that. Anyway, she seemed to be one of the good guys.

Zoe shook her head slowly from side to side as she thought through what he had told her. "It's too soon," she said quietly. "He won't be able to tell yet."

"Humans are food to a half vampire," Alan said bluntly. "Other blood can sustain them, but they can tell who has human blood. You, I don't know what you are, but you're not human. He might not realize yet, but he might."

She sighed in frustration and dropped her keys back into her purse. "Promise me you'll help him."

He nodded.

"And if there's anything I can do..."

"I'll let you know."

She stared at him with determination, in a way that reminded him of Edgar. It told him exactly why his brother was falling for this girl. "You'd better, Alan Frog, or you'll regret it."

He nodded and left quickly. He knew that was no empty threat.

* * *

When Edgar finally woke, the sun had begun its descent into the horizon. He fought off sleep slowly, gaining strength as the light filtering in through the closed blinds that covered every window faded. When his eyes opened, it was to a twilit gloom.

He blinked into the darkness above his bed. Memory returned quickly this time, forcing its way into his mind uninvited, pushing out any lingering peace of mind left over from the blissful void of sleep. He inhaled sharply and slammed his eyes closed again as the wave of emotion crashed down on his head. He held his breath and lay very still under the bed covers.

He searched his mind for any clue that that the memory was just a vivid dream. He spent his nights hunting the kinds of monsters that other people only saw in horror movies, nightmares were a common problem and sometimes in the moments between sleep and waking, there was a period where he wasn't sure what was real. But it didn't last this long. A dream should have already begun to fade from his mind, this recollection was only growing more vivid as his mind threw more and more details at him.

The taste and thick texture of the blood as he felt it filling his mouth and fought not to swallow. The agony of the injury to his hand as the vampire crushed it and he felt the bones snap. The sensation of falling to the ground, praying that the impact would kill him so that he wouldn't have to do it himself. Alan screaming at him from the ground, Alan helping him to the truck, his hollow reassurances that they would find and destroy the head vampire. The empty feeling of loss as he could almost feel his humanity draining away from him and the changes in his body beginning to take hold.

Shit.

Now what the hell was he supposed to do?

The exhaustion and confusion of his earlier moment of wakefulness was gone. The headache throbbing behind his eyes had also disappeared. He felt oddly... good. That was worrying. He didn't want to feel good. The coming of nighttime had brought with it a new kind of energy, something he had never experienced before. He felt alive in a way that he hadn't in years. The irony of that didn't escape him.

Alan had been there earlier, he remembered. He had sent him to bed like a parent telling their kid it was past his bedtime. He looked around again, searching for a sign of his brother's presence. Not finding it, he called out to him.

"Alan, you still here?"

His voice shook. It was almost imperceptible, but he could hear it. He was answered by silence.

In a way, that was a relief. He needed some time alone, time to work through the terror in his mind; to suppress it to a level where he could bring himself to think rationally and decide what he was going to do. The night before, he had reached instinctively for his stake. Now he had to decide how long he was willing to go before he did the same thing again. He didn't want Alan there, being helpful, understanding, trying to save him from himself. For the first time, Edgar thought he understood why his brother had run after had been forced to drink. He hadn't wanted Edgar to see him as a monster.

Edgar's hand slipped underneath his pillow, searching for the reassuring shape of his favorite stake. The one Alan had given him for his birthday when he turned seventeen. Inexpertly made, but lovingly hand crafted from a single piece of hard wood. He had never taken it out hunting, it seemed almost sacrilegious to dirty it with blood, but it was never far away, ready to defend him if the vampires invaded his home. It would be the perfect thing to use to end it, if it came to that.

His hand swept underneath the pillow and found nothing. Puzzled, he picked up the pillow and looked, the stake was gone. He kicked back the blanket covering him and realized that he was laying on top of his bedsheets; Alan must have covered him with a spare blanket before he left. He checked the area around the bed where the stake could have fallen, it was unlikely, it hadn't happened in all the years it had been there, but he had no other explanation. It wasn't there.

His hand paused half way to the light switch, and he looked around in the growing darkness. Almost no light at all was filtering through the tightly closed blinds into the trailer now, yet he could see perfectly. He could tell that it was dark, but the meager amount of light was enough for half vampire eyes to see. He grimaced, and flicked the switch.

The sudden glare of the electric light stung his eyes. He slammed them closed while they adjusted, then opened them slowly. Light meant that colors were more visible, but other than that he could see no better than before. It anything, his vision had lost some of his focus. Now he knew why Alan had always kept it so gloomy at his place. But in some small and stupid way, the light made him feel better, so he left it. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering what it would be like to see in direct sunlight now. He decided that he didn't want to know.

A feeling was creeping up on him slowly. It welled up from somewhere deep inside him, He felt wrong. Empty.

That was the only way he could describe the feeling. It wasn't like hunger or thirst, it was something else entirely. It was a need. He needed... Actually, at this point he only knew that it was blood that his body was craving because he knew what was happening to him. The feeling was more a general need for an unspecified something. It manifested as an uncomfortable feeling in the back of his mind and the pit of his stomach. A restlessness, a disquiet. A feeling of frustration.

He felt hungry, and horny, and like he really needed a couple of shots of whiskey and a fight, and a long sprint down the beach. Anything and everything that had ever made him feel good was being suggested to him by the empty place in his mind as it searched for something that would fill it. He tried to ignore the feeling, put it out of his mind and concentrate on something else, but the action of ignoring only it seemed to make it stronger. He wandered into the kitchen. Every piece of food looked unappetizing.

He was suddenly struck by just how much garlic he had. Not just in the kitchen, but everywhere. He reached out, picked up a bulb and gave it an experimental sniff. His stomach heaved, and he doubled over. The garlic dropped from his fingers and rolled away until it hit the bottom of the refrigerator, leaving behind an echo of the foul odor.

The night was calling to him, urging him to go outside and experience the world through his new senses. He longed to feel the cool evening air on his skin, and see the outside world in the same vivid clarity as he had the inside of his trailer before he had flooded it with light. He ignored the call of the night, pretended not to hear it.

It wasn't supposed to end like this. He was supposed to go out in battle, killed defending humanity from the scourge of undead evil that would destroy it. That, or he was supposed to live into old age, never stopping hunting, maybe train up someone to take his place. Or he could have just been hit by a bus. But not this. Anything but this.

It wasn't just the one under his pillow. All his stakes were gone. The ones he kept by the door in case he needed to grab them on the way out had disappeared, the ones hanging on the walls had all been taken down. Alan's work, he assumed. Apparently, he was no longer trusted with his own weapons. He was probably right. Though there were other ways to end it. If he needed to, he would find them.

The short walk across the tiny trailer took him past his mirror, mounted on the wall by the door. He tried to turn away before his eyes focused on his image, but out of the corner of his eye, he sensed his own movement. Curiosity got the better of him, and his head turned to look. He froze, mid step, and stared in horror.

It shouldn't have been a surprise. It wasn't a surprise, not really. It was exactly what he had expected, but expecting and experiencing were two different things.

Vampires have no reflection. That was vampirism 101; blood, sunlight, stakes, reflection. But for all his years of hunting and killing them, he had never actually seen one in a mirror. Not that there would have been anything to see.

He had listened once, fascinated, to Sam's description of Michael's half vampire reflection, and they had spent the better part of an evening discussing a thousand ridiculous reasons why his clothes had been equally transparent, but opportunities to see the phenomena up close didn't come along very often.

Actually, that wasn't true. He could have looked at Alan through a mirror whenever he wanted, he just needed to take one with him on one of his infrequent visits. The truth was, he hadn't wanted to. Just a few months earlier, he had witnessed Alan's first glimpse of himself as a whole reflection in that same mirror, and he had wondered what it must have been like to see your reflection as ghostly, transparent image. Now he knew.

It was frightening. A kind of world-shattering terror that rose up from somewhere deep inside of him and spread to every cell in his changing body. It wasn't the way that it looked itself, but what that signified.

The mirror mocked him with the image. Edgar Frog. Vampire.

He raised a hand, bringing it up to where he could see its reflection, and turned it left and right. Perfectly solid in reality, ghostly and partially transparent in the reflection. He could see the wall behind him through his face. He continued to stare at the mirror, both fascinated and horrified at the same time.

The expression on his half visible face looked completely freaked out. He felt that way too, but he had never realized how clearly his emotions could be written in his face if he didn't guard against it. Determinedly, he set his features into a blank expression, and then calmly but with clumsy, uncoordinated fingers, he took the mirror down from the wall and lay it face down on the table behind him.

That done, he finished his trip across the room, and collapsed onto his uncomfortable, sagging couch, stared unseeingly at the grainy images on his old portable television set. and tried not to think.

He sat tensely, every muscle rigid, every fiber of his being focused on the task of watching the TV, or rather on the task of of not doing anything else. Especially not thinking the night before, and what the thing that had happened meant for his future. He sat as close to bolt upright as possible on the old seat whose springs had long since collapsed into uselessness, and focused all of his attention on the action unfolding on the screen in front of him. It was several minutes before he realized that he didn't even know what he was watching. The mind does not like to be told what it can and cannot think about, and his thoughts insisted on drifting back to the events less than twenty four hours ago, treating him again and again to a high definition rerun of the moment everything went wrong.

Less than twenty four hours ago, he had been human. Now, he was a bloodsucker. Now, he was the enemy.

It had been his own fault. The vampire had him in the air, Alan was shouting up at him something that he couldn't hear, and he knew that any second, those long, horrible and already bloodstained fangs were going to sink into the artery in his neck and it would all be over. He was too high in the air to survive the fall, so killing the vampire wasn't an option. He had decided to injure her, hopefully bringing her closer to the ground in the process.

He didn't know whether the fact that one of his random attacks had slashed her wrist had given her the idea to use the blood on him, maybe hoping to disorientate him enough to make her kill, or whether that had been her intention from the start, but the injury had definitely made it easier for her. His mouth had been open when she forced the wound to his lips. He couldn't breathe; his nose had been blocked by her hand, and with her slender yet frighteningly strong wrist forcing his jaws open, he had no way to avoid the blood flowing into his mouth. Edgar had fought and struggled and gagged but without air, he knew he was going to die. His instinct for self preservation had taken over, and he had drank to save his life.

His self preservation instinct was a stupid son of a bitch. If he ever met it again, they were going to have serious words.

When Edgar could breathe again, he had found the strength to force his stake through the vampire's chest. Pure luck had allowed him to hit the heart. And then he had fallen from the sky with the screaming vampire behind him. She hit the ground with a cracking sound as the stone she had become broke into a thousand pieces. And Edgar hadn't died.

He had hoped that the fall would be too much. He knew that the vampire was brand new, maybe even having made her first kill that night. She wasn't the master. That meant that although her blood would turn Edgar as surely as any other vampire's, her death would provide no cure.

Edgar ran a hand through his unbrushed hair and took a shaking breath. For the first time since Alan had disappeared into the night, Edgar realized that he was truly afraid, and that fact alone was enough to tell him that he was deeply in shit.


	4. Chapter 4

Alan parked Edgar's truck just outside the ring of salt that surrounded his home. He turned off the engine and lights, and for a moment, just sat back in his seat and looked through the dusty windscreen at the outside of the metal box his brother called home.

All of the blinds were closed. He had closed most of them himself before he left, blocking the sunlight that was pouring mercilessly through the windows of the trailer. He had also covered Edgar head to foot with an old blanket to block the light further; the blinds were thin enough that closing them didn't make much difference. He saw evidence of that now too, as the electric lights inside made the windows glow bright yellow.

As he watched, he saw Edgar's shadow pass over one window and to another. His brother was awake. He glanced at the sky. It was almost full dark, of course he was awake.

God, it was weird to think in vampire terms when he thought of Edgar. Suddenly, everything was backwards.

The situation reminded him of the times in the past when he had stood outside Edgar's home in the darkness, just watching and waiting. He had been a half vampire then, and desperately missing his brother.

Edgar would visit him occasionally, often turning up in the middle of the night, reeking of blood and sweat from the hunt. He would wring his hands nervously as he paced the room looking in disgust at the blood, the animal remains and the taxidermy equipment; wrinkling his nose at the smell, oblivious to the effect his presence was having on his brother's half vampire senses. Then he would leave, disappear for months at a time, leaving Alan alone.

Edgar lived a dangerous life. Every night there was a chance that something unthinkable would happen to him. To ease his mind, Alan would come here some nights and check up on him, never making his presence known. He would stand not too far from where he was sitting right now, and watch for signs of life inside, just to reassure himself that Edgar was okay; that something hadn't gotten to him.

In a way, the situation was reversed now, but in another, it was exactly the same. He felt that same rush of relief on seeing the shadow that told him his brother was still there, exactly where he had left him. The canvas shoulder bag resting on the passenger seat of the car was packed with stolen weapons, but a stake wasn't the only way to kill a half vampire. If Edgar had really had wanted to surrender before the battle had begun, he would have found another way.

The memory of Alan's first night as a half vampire intruded upon his mind. It was a memory that he deliberately didn't visit often, but one that stubbornly refused to fade. Bad memories were like that, they never seemed to grow foggy over time like the pleasant ones. A few years from now, Edgar would have his own matching bad memory filed away next to all his others. That, or he wouldn't, but that alternative was even more horrible to contemplate than the current situation.

Right now, Edgar would be going through the same mental torment he had. Becoming one of the monsters; it was the one thing that every hunter feared, but that none would ever think about, until it happened.

Over the next few nights, if they didn't kill the master, the bloodlust would grow stronger, until it began to occupy his every waking thought. To spare him that, Edgar would need to drink. Probably not tonight, maybe not even the night after, but soon. Alan had resisted for much longer than he should have, determined to die before he drank blood, even animal blood, but in the end the torture of resistance had been for nothing, he had surrendered to the need. Resisting had been reckless and stupid. He hadn't believed it at the time, convinced that he was doing to right thing, but he had run the risk of losing control, of taking a life, and losing everything.

He wouldn't let his brother take that kind of a risk. Edgar would need to feed.

That was not a conversation that Alan was looking forward to having.

The shadow that had been lingering by the door for some time, moved away. Alan's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and he took a deep breath, readying himself. When he was as ready as he was ever going to be, he opened the door of the truck, grabbed his bag from the other seat, and jumped to the ground.

The salt ring that surrounded the trailer was useless to Edgar now. Its protection had vanished the moment the occupant had ceased to be human. As he stepped over it, he wondered whether Edgar realized that. This didn't seem the time to mention it.

As he climbed the three, small metal steps that led to Edgar's door, his hand moved to his pocket, where he kept the spare key that Edgar had given him in exchange for a promise that he would guard it with his life. He paused, his hand hovering just outside the pocket, and shook his head. Walking in unannounced wasn't a good idea. That was something Edgar had never seemed to understand when his impromptu visits began with him strolling into Alan's home without any kind of warning.

Instead, he raised his hand to the door and tapped three times, waited, and then three more. Their old secret knock. He hadn't thought about it in years and he had no idea what had prompted him to use it now. He took a step back, and waited.

When there was no reply, he tried again, louder this time. He had seen Edgar's shadow moving around only a few minutes earlier, but he had had time in the few moments it had taken Alan to walk from the truck to the door to do something stupid if he wanted. He knocked for a third time, so hard his knuckles hurt.

The door opened, and Alan breathed a sigh of relief.

Edgar looked terrible. Still dressed in the dirty, bloodstained clothes from the night before, his hair was uncombed and greasy, knotted from sleep. A thin layer of sweat gave his face an unhealthy shine. He looked too pale, like he was fighting off an infection. In a way, that was exactly what his body was trying to do, and soon it would realize that it had failed.

"Hey," he mumbled, and backed off swiftly across the room, putting as much distance as he could between the two of them.

Alan stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him with his foot. Edgar hung back by the couch. The TV was on with the volume turned down to nothing and the news silently showing images of the world's latest catastrophe. Edgar folded his arms around his body and watched Alan very closely.

"Hey," Alan echoed. He fingered the strap on the canvas bag slung across his back, and took a decisive step into the trailer. "How're you feeling?"

Edgar took another step back, clearly having decided an optimum distance to keep between them and determined to stick to it. He shrugged, and continued to eye his brother warily.

"Right." Alan nodded. That was about the response he had expected. He walked a little further into the trailer and looked around. Among the usual clutter, the small mirror that Edgar kept hanging on the wall had been unhooked and placed face down on the surface of the kitchen table.

Alan stopped next to it. His hand reached out and touched the non-reflective side briefly. Edgar's eyes bored him, pleading silently for him not to comment. Alan couldn't help but wonder whether his half image in the mirror had taken his brother by surprise as he walked past, or whether he had looked deliberately, to get it over with. Or whether he had looked at all.

He pulled back his hand and placed it at his side.

"You took my stakes," Edgar said finally.

Alan nodded. His bag was heavy with weapons that he had collected from around the trailer before he left. He lifted it from his shoulder and placed it on the table next to the down-facing mirror. It hit the wooden surface with a loud clunk as the contents jostled against one another.

"You tried to use one on yourself last night," he said. "I need you to promise that you won't do it again."

Edgar didn't reply straight away. He tightened his arms across his chest and looked briefly away.

"Where did you go?" he asked finally.

Alan shrugged. "I had some things to do, then I slept. I need that promise, Edgar."

Edgar nodded. Just once, but that was all it took, they didn't lie to one another, if Edgar made a promise, he kept it. Alan relaxed.

"For as long as there's hope," he added. "But I won't let this be permanent."

On the last word, his voice cracked; only slightly, but that little slip betrayed the tide of terror swirling beneath the surprisingly calm exterior. Alan felt his fists clench helplessly by his sides.

Edgar was in pain, and there was nothing he could do.

He couldn't even stand by his brother's side and punch him affectionately on the shoulder like he used to when they were kids. He certainly couldn't hug him, not that Edgar would be likely to stand for that kind of an emotional display anyway. They didn't hug, as a rule. Hugs were reserved only for those special occasions when they forgot themselves; when joy or terror overrode everything else and they surrendered to the need for closeness. This would probably have been one of those occasions, only Edgar had already begun to work on the self control he was desperately going to need, and for every step Alan took, his brother backed off a little more.

Alan folded his arms and squeezed tightly. Edgar looked so lost; so afraid. It didn't seem right, those emotions on the face of his stoic brother. It made Alan want to rush toward him offering empty promises and protection.

Instead, he sat down on the single wooden chair by the table. It wasn't until he took the weight off of his legs that he realized they were shaking.

All these years that vampirism had kept them apart, he had finally been released from his curse only to be forced to watch his brother going through the same thing.

"I meant it when I asked how you were feeling," he said. "I need to know. Anything unusual?"

Edgar laughed, but it was a harsh sound; empty, containing no joy or happiness, it sounded closer to a bark than an expression of humor. "Unusual?" he said.

Alan's eyes drifted back to the mirror. Abandoning the question, he unzipped the bag and lifted out the stakes onto the table.

"If you want to steal my supplies, you can take the garlic instead, if you want it," Edgar told him. "I can smell it from here."

There was a hell of lot of garlic in the trailer. Bulbs of it hung on string from the walls and the inside of the door, more even on the outside of the door, as one final defense should his ring of salt fail him. It also lay piled in all corners of the trailer as though it was something Edgar needed easy access to at all hours of the day, like some kind of mad chef. As far as weapons against the undead went, it was one of the weaker ones. Vampires avoided it, but it alone wouldn't kill them, the worst it would do to them was turn their stomachs. It was a useful addition to a hunter's arsenal, but not a necessary one.

But Edgar did go through a lot of it in making that horrible drink he swore by. If there was an upside to this situation – and really there wasn't, but if he was forced to come up with one – Alan would say that ironically his brother's breath might actually smell better now.

"I'm glad you find this so funny," Edgar said.

Alan froze in horror. He hadn't realized he had been smiling. He instantly wiped the expression from his lips and shook his head. "I don't. Yeah, I'll get rid of it for you."

"You might as well take the food too. None of it looks too appetizing suddenly."

"Wait and see how tonight goes before you start donating your kitchen," Alan told him.

Edgar gave him a look that said Alan was being too optimistic. Alan shot him one back that told him anything was possible. Edgar didn't believe him. The conversation stopped there. Once, they had been able to have whole discussions and even arguments without saying a word, then Alan had been changed, and the art had been lost. It was coming back slowly, as they learned once again to work together, but this was going to be a major setback.

"Fine, I'll see how tonight goes, then maybe I'll take the perishables off your hands." His fingers played nervously with the zipper on his bag. "While we're talking about food..." he added. Slowly and reluctantly, he slipped one hand inside the bag.

Edgar stared at him with an expression of horror. Their non-verbal communication skills may not be what they were, but Edgar could still read him like a book. He knew what was coming.

"No," he whispered.

"Not now. You're okay for now, but if we can't solve this tonight, then maybe tomorrow you'll need to," his fingers gripped the smooth plastic of the bottle and he pulled it into the light of the trailer.

Edgar's horrified look intensified and he backed off a little further even without Alan moving toward him. His back hit the wall next to his bed, and there was nowhere else for him to go.

"No way, Alan. Definitely not. Under no circumstances." He shook his head vehemently from side to side as he spoke.

"You're going to get hungry," Alan said bluntly. "I held out almost two weeks, but every of it second was torture, and in the end I surrendered anyway."

Edgar continued to shake his head from side to side, his gaze didn't leave the bottle of animal blood in Alan's hand.

"Resisting was stupid," Alan told him. "It made me a danger to everyone. You could do it, but you wouldn't be able to do anything else."

"I don't care," he assured him. "I'll stay away from everyone. Lock me in here, tie me down with silver rope in a ring of salt, put holy water traps all around the place to make sure I can't get out. I'm not going to do it."

"Most of those things won't even..." Alan broke off. He put the bottle down on the table and tapped it distractedly with his fingernails as he spoke. "What if we can't cure you tonight? Or tomorrow, or the night after? I know it doesn't feel so bad yet, but try it for a week, or a a month, or a year. It gets worse, Edgar. You have no idea how much worse it's going to get. You can't resist for that long. You just can't."

Edgar sank onto the end of his unmade bed and wrapped his arms around his torso. Alan could see his words piercing the thick defensive hide that his brother had built up around himself over the years, and he could see the pain they were causing. Sooner or later, Edgar would realize he was right, but until then...

"No," Edgar repeated.

Alan nodded. "I'm going to leave it in the refrigerator. When you feel the bloodlust, drink it, or you'll be too dangerous to be around. I can't hunt with you if I can't trust you. This'll only take the edge off. It's going to take a lot of self control too."

Edgar didn't reply. His hands brushed the bare skin of his arms as though he felt a chill.

"It's horrible," Alan added quietly. "The taste. You won't like it. If that's what you're worried about."

His gaze firmly focused on the linoleum beneath his feet, Edgar nodded wordlessly.

It was full dark outside by now. The vampires would be awake and hunting, both sides increasing their strength and their numbers for the war. Alan watched his brother glance accusingly at the door of the refrigerator as though it were some kind of traitor for containing a bottle of blood, and he sighed.

He got to his feet. Edgar didn't look at him.

"I have to go," he said.

"Go where?"

"Where do you think?" Alan said, then bit his lip, regretting the tone in his voice. He took a breath, held it and exhaled slowly. "I know someone who might be able to tell me who the two possible head vampires are," he said. "I'm going to find out what I can, and then..."

"You're going hunting," Edgar finished for him.

Alan nodded.

"I'm going with you," Edgar said. He got to his feet, then looked down, taking in the blood and dirt encrusted state of his clothing. "Give me a minute to get changed, I'll attract too much attention like this."

He grabbed a handful of clothes from a drawer, and walked into the bathroom, all the time keeping as much space between himself and Alan as he could. "I don't think that's a good idea, Edgar," Alan called after him as the door began to close.

Edgar paused and turned to look at him. "You'd rather I stink?"

"No, I just think I should do this alone."

The bathroom door closed and Alan heard the sound of running water.

"I'll come back when I'm done, I'll let you know how it went," Alan called.

"You just said you can't hunt with me if you don't trust me," Edgar replied over the sound of the shower. "That means you were planning on hunting with me."

"Not yet," Alan said. "It's too soon. Hopefully I'll take care of this tonight and you'll be cured. If not, once you're ready..."

"So you're going to go out there without backup? And what am I supposed to do, just sit around here and watch TV?" The sound of water stopped, and a few seconds later, Edgar emerged from the bathroom wearing a less soiled version of the same clothes he had been wearing earlier. "This is my life we're talking about," he said. He grabbed one of his favorite bandannas and tied it tightly around his head. The water from his damp hair soaked into the red fabric.

"Edgar..."

"I can't just wait here, I'll go crazy."

Alan knew that restless feeling that the darkness brought. "It's a trick," he explained. "You feel compelled to go outside, where the temptation is stronger. I know it's hard, but you need to ignore it and concentrate on something else. You can't just go charging outside, that's how things go wrong."

Edgar shook his head. He strode purposefully across the trailer toward Alan, closing the distance between them in a few short steps. He looked at him triumphantly, as though he had somehow proved by coming close and not biting, that he was in control. But he wasn't feeling it yet. Edgar wasn't going to understand until he had felt that burning need to drink. When he did, he would realize the danger, but until then, he just couldn't understand.

If Alan could find the head vampire tonight, maybe Edgar would never have to understand.

Edgar obviously wasn't in the mood to listen to reason. He selected three of the newly returned stakes from the table, and held each one up to the light, checking it for any signs of weakness before placing them in his holster. "I'm going," he said. The stubborn determination in his eyes said that he didn't care what Alan said, he would go without him if he needed to.

It wasn't worth the fight, not yet, before the need kicked in. Where he was going first was safe, more or less. After that, he wasn't sure, but they could cross that bridge if they came to it.

Anyway, hadn't he done exactly this? His first nights as a half vampire had been spent hunting in a desperate attempt to free himself from the curse, until the rising bloodlust drove him away from the temptation of the streets. He hadn't killed anyone, no humans at least. Edgar would be okay for now, he was sure of it.

"Fine," he said. He picked up several more of the stakes and watched Edgar select a gun. Just in case, he also picked up one of the many garlic bulbs and shoved it in the pocket of his jacket. Non-lethal, in case he needed to deter a vampire that he couldn't kill. "Lets go."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N – Sorry it's been so long between chapters, this one's coming slowly, but it is coming._

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If such a thing were possible, this part of town actually seemed sleazier and darker and worse smelling than the corner that, despite Edgar's constant urging of him to move, Alan still called home.

The sun had long since sunk below the horizon and plunged the world into darkness. For the first time, although the night time still held the same dangers as it always had, the absence of light came as a relief to Edgar. It made him feel better. If he didn't pay attention to the things that he was trying desperately not to think about, he could almost fool himself into believing that everything was normal. When the sun rose again, he would feel like crap, and any sense of normality would be impossible.

It didn't look dark. Even in the maze of narrow streets and high buildings devoid of any street lighting, despite the thick layer of cloud that had blown in during the afternoon, covering the sky and blocking the light of the moon and stars, vampire night vision brought the world into sharp focus.

The dead end alley where Alan finally brought the truck to a stop looked like a part of town long forgotten, abandoned and left to go to seed. No one had ever lived there, once upon a time it had probably been the thriving industrial heart of San Cazador, but now warehouses and factories had long since fallen to disuse after the fishing industry moved to other towns, taking the jobs with it, and the tourist industry became king. People had moved out and never given the place another thought. It was the perfect place for vampires to call home, but Alan seemed unconcerned by the possibility.

Edgar checked his stakes as Alan put the truck into park, then he opened the passenger side door and stepped down. Alan did the same, locked the doors and glanced around into the darkness. The air was thick with the sickly smell of rotting garbage mixed with animal excrement, so strong and thick it almost seemed to have a physical presence, like a force field designed to keep strangers away. It made Edgar's stomach churn worse even than the garlic.

Out of the corner of his eye, he detected a flash of movement. He spun toward it just in time to see the back legs and tail of a large rat as it scurried into a hole in the wall of a clearly abandoned building. This place was truly horrible.

Edgar was struck by the strange feeling that he was probably the most dangerous thing here.

"What the hell are we doing here?" he whispered.

Alan turned to look at him. His brother's pupils had expanded, reducing his irises to almost non-existence as he strained to see in the darkness. Despite that, he still didn't quite manage to make accurate eye contact. Right now Alan was practically blind, yet Edgar could see better than he ever had.

"Visiting a friend." Alan replied.

Edgar stared at him incredulously. It made no impact, because of course Alan couldn't make out his expression. "You've got friends?"

Alan turned around and began walking carefully through the scattered garbage on the ground. He raised an arm in the air and treated Edgar to a single finger salute over his shoulder. Despite everything, Edgar smirked. Things seemed normal again.

Then reality reared its ugly head and forced him to remember how not normal things were.

Alan reached a metal door, riveted around the edge, and built so tightly into the wall that Edgar, even with his frighting new night vision, didn't notice it until Alan raised a fist and knocked three times. The resulting sound of knuckles on metal echoed around the alley, bouncing off the brick walls.

Alan waited. Edgar followed him across the garbage-strewn ground. On the other side of the door, he thought he could make out the sound of footsteps approaching. A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open outwards. Alan stepped back to avoid it.

Light filled the alley. It burst through the open door unexpectedly, forcing its way into Edgar's skull through his eyes, as they stung fiercely in protest. He winced in pain, turning away from the glare. When his eyes had begun to adjust, he turned back hesitantly, and found himself looking at a man in his late twenties.

The man had a slim but muscular build; his olive skin spoke of southern European or maybe Middle Eastern heritage. Black hair was cropped close to his skull. He was of average height, and Edgar was no judge, but his clothes didn't look cheap. Snap judgement told him this was one of the many youngish men that called these kinds of towns home, attempting to extend their youth by refusing to grow up. Spending all their money on designer clothes and video games, and all their spare time on the beach.

That Alan had gone to him said that there was possibly more to him than met the eye. Edgar stared at him critically, trying to decide out what it might be.

The man was staring at Alan with an expression of disbelief on his face. His head shook slowly from side to side as he looked at his surprise visitors.

"Well, this is unexpected. I thought you'd turned. Or died."

His accent wasn't local. Edgar listened carefully, trying to place it.

Alan shook his head. "Guess again."

The man exhaled through his mouth, and then took a slow, deep breath in through his nose, turning his head from left to right as did. A smile spread across his lips, but didn't reach his eyes. It made it appear sad. He nodded.

"You did it. You're human again. Well, I'd given up on convincing you you were better off as you were. Congratulations, I suppose." He leaned forward slightly and whispered conspiratorially. "You smell delicious, by they way."

Edgar frowned nervously. His hand gripped the reassuringly sturdy handle of his stake. He just held it for ease of access, didn't pull it out. This guy definitely wasn't human.

Alan turned around to look at Edgar. "This is Daniel. He's a half vampire."

"Half vampire?" Edgar loosened his grip on the stake slightly, but kept his hand where he could feel its presence. "Didn't they all get turned back?"

Daniel grinned widely, "Only the ones unlucky enough to be the bloodline of the master that died last year. Thankfully, I'm not from around here."

"I thought that might happen," Alan told him. "I'm glad I was right."

Edgar felt his frown deepen. "You're... glad... someone's still a half vampire?"

Alan shrugged. "Daniel..."

"Likes who is is and had no desire to change," the half vampire finished for him. He grinned again. His teeth were Hollywood white; they drew Edgar's eye and he found himself examining them for signs of fangs. Instinctively, his tongue traced the shape of his own teeth, checking for the same thing. Nothing, but he knew they were there; hiding beneath his human disguise was the monster inside.

He could feel it even now, stretching its limbs and beginning to pay attention to the other monster before it.

Daniel peered at Edgar in interest, as though he had only just noticed him. He smiled again, friendly and welcoming and not at all like the monster that Edgar knew he was.

"You're new. Who're you?"

"Daniel, this is my brother, Edgar." Alan said.

Daniel's eyes widened, then his grin expanded to match. A deep chuckle emerged from his throat and he shook his head in disbelief as he took a step backwards, allowing them room to enter the building. "Ah, don't you just love irony? Well then, you'd better come in."

* * *

The half vampire waited until they were both inside, and then pulled the heavy door closed with a loud, metallic clunk. Edgar forced all apprehension aside for the time being. Yes, this was the home of a half vampire, but Alan appeared to trust him, and Edgar was hardly in a position to judge at the moment. What really bothered him was that Alan had kept this from him. If he had chosen not to mention this, what other secrets did he have?

The room he found himself in had possibly been a warehouse in a previous life, but it had been customized to make it into a trendy home. Edgar gritted his teeth. He may have been right about there being more to the man than met the eye, but it was possible his first assessment had been correct too.

What had once been a single, large room had been divided by bare, red brick walls that reached only part way to the high ceiling, too high to see over but low enough that the whole place still looked like one room. Electric lights hung by their wires from the ceiling, down into the different not quite rooms. Creating this place would not have been cheep. This half vampire was obviously not without money.

Edgar kept to the back, following Alan as he followed the vampire round a corner and into the main room. It was large and rectangular, with the other rooms placed around the edge like offshoots. The far wall was dominated by a obscenely large flat screen television. A sofa and two chairs were aimed directly at it. Next to the TV was a pile of DVDs and console games. A little closer, and pushed against the left wall was a desk containing a small laptop and a large desktop computer, and , Edgar frowned as he counted them, six flat screen monitors, each showing something different, charts, a word processing program, some web pages and what looked like an old black and white movie. The other walls were covered with posters advertising bands and movies.

Scattered around the room was all kinds of pointless junk that there was no need for anyone over the age of eight to have, let alone a vampire. He stepped over a radio controlled car, just managing to suppress the urge to kick it. This was the dream apartment of the average twenty-something guy with too much money and not enough sense.

Even without taking into account the fact that he was a half vampire who apparently seemed perfectly happy with the situation, Edgar hated him already.

Daniel spread his arms. "Welcome to my home," he said. "Grab a seat, make yourselves comfortable. Alan, I'm afraid I don't have anything to offer you, but..." he pointed at Edgar, frowning in concentration. "Eddie, right? If you're hungry..?"

"It's Edgar," Edgar snapped. "And no."

Daniel looked at him curiously. "How new are you?"

Edgar folded his arms and pretended to examine the poster hanging in a frame on the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Alan make eye contact and shake his head, telling the vampire to drop it.

"That's a cue to shut up if I ever saw one," Daniel said. "No problem, but if you change your mind, you only have to ask. You might want to take me up on the offer while you're here, because anything your brother gives you, you _will_ want to throw it back up. I've learned how to make our diet a little more appetizing."

Edgar pointedly ignored him and turned to Alan. "Why are we here?"

"I was hoping Daniel could give us some information," Alan explained. "Still got your finger on the undead pulse of the city, Daniel?"

The half vampire shrugged. "I'll just be a second. Sit down, watch some TV." He turned and left the room. In another part of the building, Edgar's unnervingly sharp hearing detected the sound of a refrigerator being opened.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Edgar asked in hushed tones.

"Daniel's a friend," Alan explained. "He's been a half vampire for a long time, longer than I was, and he doesn't want to go back to human. He usually knows what's going on around town, or he can point you in the direction of someone who does."

Edgar shook his head in disbelief. "So if he doesn't want to be human, why has he been a half vamp so long?"

"Because I don't want to be a vampire either," Daniel replied from the gap in the wall that served as a door. "Have you ever met one of those things? Horrible creatures." He took a sip from the glass in his hand and walked toward them. The liquid in the glass stuck to the side, leaving a translucent red stain. "You might want to bear in mind that you can't talk about a half vampire behind his back if he's within a block or two of you. You'll come to learn just how cool your powers are eventually. But in the meantime, just take my word for it."

Edgar grimaced in disgust and turned away from the red liquid in the glass. The thought of what the other half vampire was doing was revolting. On the few occasions when he had visited Alan in his half vampire state, even though he had never actually seen his brother do it, the thought of blood drinking even to resist turning made his stomach turn. But this time revulsion was mixed with curiosity.

The smell of the blood spread from the glass throughout the room. It smelled like blood always had, but heightened senses made it so much stronger and more potent. His mind railed against the response it provoked in his body. He could feel his heart rate increasing, his breathing growing quicker and sweat on his brow. Fear, he told himself. Fear and disgust. But he knew that it was something else.

"So you're saying you like being a bloodsucker?" Edgar said, still looking away from the other half vampire. The words came out more harshly than he had intended, but that didn't matter. He probably deserved it.

"Technically, I'm not a bloodsucker, I'm a blood drinker," Daniel corrected. "I don't suck anything, I put it in a glass and drink it like a civilized person."

Edgar glanced back at him just in time to see him take another oh so civilized gulp of blood. He looked away again.

"I like the advantages it gives me," Daniel continued. "You get the best of both worlds; strength, flight, enhanced senses, but without becoming like the vampires. It's not without its disadvantages, but the same can be said of being human."

He smiled, and this time Edgar saw a flash of fang before it disappeared under his lip. With one final gulp, he drained the glass, set it down on the table in front of the couch and sat down. He patted the cushion next to him.

"Sit down, guys. I'll start to think you don't want to be here."

Alan shared a glance with Edgar, and then sat down on one of the chairs. Edgar took the other one, continuing to watch the half vampire warily.

"The advantages of being human are better," Alan said.

Daniel smiled again, indulgently this time, as though he had had this conversation before. He turned his attention to the room's only human occupant.

"What's it like suddenly being human again after, what was it? Five years? Do you feel weak? Do you miss flying?"

Alan suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "It's been more difficult than I expected," he admitted. Edgar's gaze jumped sharply to his brother and he stared intently at him as he listened to him talk about something outright that he had only hinted at before. "It's taken some time to re-adapt. But it's worth it."

"I still maintain that you're certifiable," Daniel told him.

"You never seemed to get it, Daniel. We're hunters."

"And just think what those vampire enhancements would do to your hunting skills."

Alan shook his head vehemently. "I know what they do, and it's not worth the downside," he said.

Daniel shrugged and leaned back on the couch. He lifted his feet and placed them on the coffee table next to his glass. The dregs of the blood that had stuck to the sides had begun to run back down and form a small pool in the bottom. The smell of blood continued to fill the room.

"So, what can I do for you?" Daniel asked. "I assume the newbie here isn't looking for tips on how to actually enjoy the gift he's been given, so what do you want?"

"Information," Alan said. "I assume you already know what's going on with the vampires in the city?"

"I know some _genius_," he eyed Edgar disapprovingly, "thought it'd be a good idea to take out one of the big bosses. Created a power vacuum that the others have rushed in to fill. It's not quite all out war yet, but it's heading that way. I've been keeping as far out of it as possible, but you guys have created a hell of a mess. Both sides are creating soldiers; Eddie here's not the only one that's going to be finding himself with an unexpected set of fangs. And most of the other newbies aren't going to have the kind of self control I do."

"Shit," muttered Edgar. Things were already bad enough. A plague of new vampires eating the tourists wasn't going to help matters. Especially not when their two man team was a man down. The glass on the table was calling to him. He wondered what it would be like to run a finger around the inside of the glass, collecting the leftovers and just taste it. Just a taste.

He didn't want to be thinking things like that. He felt dizzy. He ran a hand across his brow and it came away damp.

Alan nodded, fixed on what Daniel was saying, not noticing Edgar's difficulty. "So if we kill both of them, we're just going to end up with the same problem again a few months down the line. We need to find out whose bloodline Edgar is, kill the right vampire and let the other one become the master."

"No," said Edgar. His voice shook slightly, maybe not even enough for Alan to notice, but Edgar could hear it. He needed to be away from that blood. He could smell the same scent coming from Alan, and the presence of the glass was just making it worse. His fingers gripped the arm of his chair tightly, as though he could anchor himself in place. "We need to kill them all. Every last one of them."

"We can't do that," Alan said. He turned to look at Edgar, and his expression crumpled into concern.

He moved his gaze to the glass on the table, and then to Daniel, who cringed guiltily. "I'll clear that up," he muttered. He grabbed the glass and took it away.

"Idiot," Alan muttered. He turned his attention to Edgar.

Edgar's fingers were so deeply embedded in the leather surface of the chair arm that he didn't know whether he would be able to extract them. The blood was gone, but it's scent still lingered in the room like a perfume after the wearer had left.

This was bloodlust.

He had heard about it, read about it. Even, once he knew the Alan was back and still fighting it, dreamed about it. He had had so many nightmares where this had happened to him; now he was literally trapped in his worst nightmare.

He was still human. His mind, the thing that made him who he was, was still human. But he was trapped inside a body no longer his own, one that demanded blood. His human mind railed against the idea of giving in to the terrible need, still convinced, despite the evidence to the contrary, that it resided within a human body. The seemingly irrational craving made no sense to the person he had been, but his half vampire body insisted with increasing ferocity.

He dug his fingers deeper still into the chair arm, while his other hand balled into a fist. He pressed the knuckles into his leg, physical pain in an attempt to distract himself from mental torture. The utter betrayal, by his own body, of everything that he believed.

He closed his eyes and attempted to concentrate on breathing slowly, hoping that the feeling would pass. It didn't. Each breath drew in more of the scent. He could still feel the unnatural speed of his heart pounding, but he could also hear Alan's. Through the thin barrier of skin that separated the blood within him from the air, Edgar could smell it. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop smelling it, and as much as the idea sickened him, he wanted it. He wanted it so badly it hurt. It literally hurt, as though something inside of him was twisting.

"Edgar?"

Alan's voice cut through the swirling red and black in his mind. Blood. It was circulating through his veins, being pumped around and around his fragile body. Just a little scratch would release it. Would that do any harm? Maybe Alan would be willing. Just a little scratch, the blood would well up and Edgar could just have a taste. Just a taste, that would be enough.

No. No no no no no.

"Edgar. Listen to me."

"Go away, Alan."

He heard Alan get out of his chair and breathed a sigh of relief. If Alan would go, he would be okay. That was what he needed, not to have to be so close. If he left, Edgar would be able to think again.

Footsteps approached him. Edgar shook his head.

"It's okay, just try to..."

Edgar opened his eyes. Alan was standing right next to him, looking down at him with frightened concern. He could barely find the willpower to speak, but Edgar tried to push in as much of the desperation and the need into the few words he could manage. Alan would understand, Alan had been in this exact same position. Edgar had had no idea, even in his worst imaginings, he had never been able to come up with something like this. And it was only going to get worse.

He looked up at Alan, staring him straight in the eyes. "Go," he said.

For a moment, Alan froze completely still. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but Edgar saw the reaction, then Alan backed away several steps, and then turned and fled.

Edgar allowed his head to drop into his hands. Something sharp scraped along the tip of his tongue, and he, too, froze in horror. His tooth. His fang. With his tongue, he explored the inside of his mouth with growing panic. No wonder Alan had run. He imagined eyes glowing red, staring out from underneath a matching bandanna. Fingertips explored the surface of his face. It felt normal.

Footsteps were approaching. Reluctantly, he looked up. The half vampire was standing a few feet away. He held another glass in one hand, and held up the other in a nervous greeting. "You're not going to attack me, are you?" he asked. "My blood won't do anything for you, but it's been know to happen anyway."

Edgar shook his head. The smell of blood filled his nostrils again but it wasn't coming from the other man, but the glass in his hand.

"You should drink this," Daniel held it out to him. "Alan tells me you'll refuse, and I'm supposed to tell you he's not getting in the car with you unless you do. Which, because I'm assuming you haven't mastered flying yet, means a long walk home through populated streets, or you'll have to stay here with me. A slumber party might be fun though. What do you say?"

The blood was calling to him; his body wanted it, but his mind couldn't comprehend the idea of drinking it, of raising the glass to his lips and allowing his mouth to fill with blood.

Daniel chewed at his bottom lip nervously, he placed the glass on the table in front of Edgar then sat down and leaned toward him. "This is my fault. I'm really sorry, I wasn't thinking. It's been so long since I was new, I met Alan when he'd already learned control. I didn't mean to do this to you."

"Fuck you," Edgar muttered through clenched teeth.

"I'm more of a ladies man, if you know what I mean, but I've been known to make exceptions. You're not really my type though, but maybe during our slumber party."

"Get away from me. You're a monster."

Daniel shrugged, accepting the truth of the statement, but stayed where he was. He shuffled his chair a little closer and reached forward to touch Edgar lightly on the knee. "By your definition, yeah I guess I am, but have you looked in the mirror recently?" He paused. "That was supposed to be funny, but maybe you're the wrong audience."

"Get away!" Edgar repeated.

Daniel shook his head. Suddenly, he seemed to become serious. He cleared his throat. "What you can smell is a combination of what's in the the glass, and what's in your brother. He's gone as far away as he can, but once the bloodlust starts it doesn't stop until you drink. It'll get stronger, more intense. You can fight it if you want, but it's not pretty, and you'll lose in the end. Just have a drink, and you'll be able to think again, okay?"

Edgar shook his head. He felt his throat tighten, and a sound squeezed its way out. To his horror, it sounded like a whimper

"It's cow's blood, if you're interested. You eat beef, I assume? You're not a vegetarian, are you? Because I'm sorry to say that'd be pretty much unworkable."

Edgar's fingers ran through his almost dry hair. It was beginning to grow damp again. The half vampire next to him just kept talking, on and on as though he thought he could wear down Edgar's resolve with a constant barrage of words.

"Shut up!" he snapped finally. If he wanted to stay, fine, but he needed to stop talking before Edgar got out his stakes.

"No one is going to think badly of you. It's our nature to drink blood. We need it to survive. Your brother understands that better than anyone, he spent five years on a liquid diet, hating every second of it. If he could've done without, don't you think he would have?"

Edgar squeezed his eyes tightly closed. He was aware of everything. He could still smell Alan in another part of the building. The blood in the glass in front of him called to him. He could feel the half vampire's hand resting on his knee. He jerked his leg away. Two weeks. Alan said he lasted two weeks before he surrendered and drank animal blood. Just a few short hours ago, that hadn't sounded impressive at all. Now he was beginning to look at his brother in a whole new light.

Clearly, Alan was the stronger brother, because Edgar wasn't even going to last two nights.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the glass on the table. He gripped it tightly with both hands, wrapping them around the smooth surface of the glass, his fingers intertwined. Slowly, ignoring the way his mind still screamed at him to stop, he lifted it toward his lips, and drank.

The blood was cold from the refrigerator. The liquid was thick and rich. It stuck between his teeth and in his throat as he drank. It quenched the hunger deep inside him. Not enough that it was completely gone, but enough that he felt like himself again. The irony didn't escape him, that by behaving like a monster, he was able to reclaim part of his humanity.

He set the empty glass down on the table and ran his tongue along the front of his thankfully human teeth, sucking away the blood that he could feel trapped between them. Finally, he took a breath and looked up.

Daniel was smiling at him like a proud parent watching their kid take his first steps. Edgar didn't like it.

"There, see? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Not so bad? Edgar simply stared back at him. The idea was still unbelievably horrifying, but the vampire was right, he did eat meat, this wasn't so different. Yet at the same time, yes it was. Incredibly so.

"I add a little red wine to it, a little sugar, a few spices. It's my own recipe. I'd be happy to share it. Your brother was never interested; I think he wanted it to taste bad. Some kind of punishment to himself or something. But I think you're different."

Edgar shook his head. "I'm not," he assured him. He wiped away the sweat from his face quickly with his hands, then rubbed them on his pants. Already, the memory of the hunger was fading slightly, but he knew that it would rise again. And next time it would be worse. "Thank you," he said reluctantly.

Daniel shrugged. "Anything to help a fellow monster."

Edgar shook his head, but didn't deny the truth of his words. He was a monster. He had seen evidence of that. A monster with fangs and a lust for blood. One that had been temporally sated, but one that would rise again.

"I really am sorry," Daniel assured him, "but I promise it would've happened sooner or later anyway. This might've been the best place for it."

Edgar didn't reply.

"Shall I tell Alan he's safe to come back?" Daniel asked.

Edgar nodded. For now, Alan was safe. A few minutes ago, he hadn't been. Alan could hold his own against a full vampire, Edgar had no worries about that, but he wondered whether he could trust his brother not to hesitate. If Edgar lost control, he needed to know that Alan would strike to kill, and he knew that when the situation had been reversed, he wouldn't have been able to do it.


	6. Chapter 6

Alan glanced sideways at his brother as he turned the key in the ignition. Edgar looked shrunken, somehow, as though the events of the night were a heavy weight pressing down onto him. He had pushed himself right up to the door of the truck, pressing his body against the interior of the vehicle and putting as much space between the two of them as he could. He stared out of the window into the darkness outside.

Alan wondered how much he could see out there. Vampire's night vision was as impressive as their strength. Having seen it from the other side, it was hard to imagine how a vampire could ever lose a fight to a human, even with the arsenal of weapons they had at their disposal.

Daniel had been right about one thing, vampires and half vampires were simply better equip for battle. They were stronger, faster, more difficult to injure, and when you did injure one, he would heal much more quickly. They could see as well at night as a human could during the day, better ever, their hearing was better, their sense of smell. They could fly.

He would never admit it out loud, but Daniel had been right about something else. He did miss flying. It was the ultimate sense of freedom, the ability to leap into the sky and just keep going, leave the whole world behind, defy gravity. If there was one thing he could have kept, it would have been that. Not the strength, the healing, even the reduced rate at which half vampire tended to age, but the ability, just every now and then, to leave the world behind.

Out of the corner of his eye, in the seat next to him he saw Edgar shiver slightly, as though he felt a chill, despite the warm air of the summer night. Half vampire body temperatures were a little cooler than regular humans anyway, not the icy dead flesh of a full vampire, but cool enough that they didn't really feel the cold. Whatever caused it was not the weather. The reminder of his brother's presence, and of his situation, pulled Alan out of his reverie. This was one of the things that Edgar could never know; that there was something – anything – about vampirism he had liked. He could imagine his brother's horror at the revelation; the way it would erode the trust between them. It wasn't just the bad things he didn't want Edgar to have to know.

That was why they had to solve this quickly, before anything else went wrong.

Edgar's eyes were glassy was he stared blankly outside. He appeared listless, completely devoid of his usual energy. He hadn't been like that earlier. But that was before he had experienced bloodlust. Before he had been forced to deal with his reality. This was more than just half reflections and the need to sleep during the day. This was real, undeniable evidence of the fact that he was no longer human, and it all happened at once. There had been no gradual build to allow him to grow accustomed to the sensation of the creature gnawing hungrily was his insides, demanding blood. Daniel's thoughtlessness had brought it on ahead of schedule.

Not just Daniel's; his own too. If Alan been thinking, and he had no excuse not to, he could have warned Daniel. He could even have stood his ground and refused to let Edgar go with him. But he always deferred to Edgar's judgment. Always, even when he knew that his brother was wrong. In this, he was the expert. He should have been stronger.

This was all his fault. He just hoped that whatever had broken in Edgar, it was something that could eventually be repaired.

He took a deep breath. The silence had an almost physical presence, it filled the inside of the car, pressing against the surface of his skin, it took genuine effort to break it and force out words.

"Daniel's given me the location of the biggest covens in the area. He thinks their leader is probably one of the potentials."

Edgar remained silent, staring out of the window with the side of his face touching the cool glass.

"I don't think you should come with me," he continued.

There was still no response. Edgar didn't even move a muscle, he didn't even blink. It was like someone had taken his brother and replaced him with a statue.

Alan teased his bottom lip with his teeth and nervously ran a hand over the steering wheel. "It's too risky," he explained. "You're too new. In the heat of battle, you could get confused about who the enemy is."

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he detected the slightest quiver of movement from the other side of the car, but when he turned to check, Edgar was still a statue, lost to the thoughts in his head. Alan wondered whether he had even heard what he said.

The engine throbbed impatiently, and Alan shifted the vehicle into drive. He reversed carefully up the narrow alley, before he turned back onto the larger street at the top. He allowed the silence to once again expand until it filled the inside of the truck, and drove in complete silence, the radio switched off and the only sounds the engine and the tires on tarmac.

* * *

The world felt much further away than it had before. It was as though his consciousness had taken a step back, inside his head, pulling away from the world around him where the unthinkable things happened. He felt numb, anesthetized by shock. Around him, the world continued, he could still see and hear what was happening if he chose to pay attention, but he was powerless to interact with it. Sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, he was aware of the throb of the engine, and the slight vibration is caused in the seats and the floor.

Somewhere just on the edge of his awareness, he could hear Alan talking. He didn't try to make out the words. Outside of the truck, in the alley, he could see a black and white stray picking through the garbage can.

The glass of the window felt cold against the skin of his face, but he couldn't bring himself to move away.

He felt the truck begin to move, he drew his vague attention away from the high definition vampire-vision scenes of the disgusting alley outside, and focused instead on Alan. The expression on his brother's face was worried. His jaw was tight, he had always held his tension there. Hands gripped the wheel tightly, tight enough to force the blood from his fingers.

Blood.

He could still smell it. It emanated from Alan's side of the truck, no less strongly than before, when the need to drink had become so unbearable that he, Edgar Frog, vampire hunter, had been forced to surrender to it. Only because the terrible urge had been temporally sated was Alan safe for now. He could hear the beating of Alan's heart, drumming out a fast rhythm as it pumped the life sustaining fluid around his brother's body in a continuous, never ending cycle.

There was still blood in his own mouth, he could still taste it no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. He wanted more. He never wanted any, ever again, but God how he wanted more.

Alan's heartbeat continued to pound in his ears, a drum beat playing just for him. He concentrated on it, closing his eyes and allowing the sound to become his whole world, just for a short moment. Alan was alive; he was human. He had come through the nightmare and out the other end. And yes, he was different now, in subtle ways that he thought Edgar didn't notice, but he was Alan, and he was himself again. He was alive.

Edgar couldn't jeopardize that. The loss of control had frightened him, nothing he had seen or heard or read or experienced in all his years of hunting could even have begun to prepare him for the effects of bloodlust on a new half vampire. And that was what he was now, a half vampire, a bloodsucker. A monster. There was something inside him. It was evil, and it was strong.

The decision to drink hadn't been his own. He had had no choice. The monster demanded blood, a desperate, clawing need for something unthinkable, a need so strong that he felt that if he didn't provide it, his body would have taken what it needed regardless.

But then, it wasn't really his body any more, was it?

There was blood in his mouth.

Blood.

He had drunk blood. He had liked it.

As they drove out of the town, away from the streetlights and the people, he saw Alan's eyes flicker from the road ahead, checking on him. His concern was obvious. His brow creased in concern as he watched him out of the corner of his eye.

Slowly, Edgar made an attempt to free himself from the bubble separating him from the world, and forced his body to respond to his commands. He flexed his fingers, just testing that they would do as he asked. His right hand, crushed in the fight the night before, was completely healed now. He licked his lips before he spoke, they, too, tasted of blood.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Silence shattered, his words sounded too loud, too unexpected. Too shaken.

"Me?"

They were well out of town by now. Edgar realized he had no idea how long they had been driving. It could have been a couple of minutes or an hour. Alan eased his foot off the gas, slowing the truck slightly for safety on the dark, deserted road. He turned fully around to look at him.

"Are _you_ okay, Edgar? You've been practically catatonic for the past half hour."

Half hour. That answered that question. He wondered how long he would last before the terrible need rose again.

"I..." his throat constricted and suddenly he couldn't speak. He was thinking of fangs, and of eyes stained red with need. He swallowed convulsively, sure that he could still taste the blood in his mouth.

Alan's attention moved back to the road for long enough to check he wasn't about to crash, and then straight back to Edgar.

"I drank blood," Edgar stated. Saying it out loud somehow made it more real. The words provoked a kind of empty feeling inside him, like he was balancing on the edge of a deep hole and if he wasn't careful, he could fall in. If he fell, he didn't know whether he would be able to climb out again.

Alan nodded, breathing a sigh as he did. "Yeah."

Silence descended once again, because what could anyone say to follow that? Edgar rested an elbow on the door and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the world in its high definition, vampire vision clarity.

He could still hear Alan's heartbeat. He wondered whether his brother realized.

* * *

It had already been a long night. Edgar's internal clock had been well and truly screwed up, it felt like it was nearly dawn, like he had spent the whole night fighting and was ready to collapse in a heap on his bed and sleep until mid afternoon. In fact, it was barely past midnight, the whole night stretched ahead of him, he had hours yet of being a monster before he could sink not into sleep but into dreamless unconsciousness, strength sapped by the usually life giving rays of the sun.

He didn't open his eyes until the truck came to a stop outside his trailer. He forced his hand to reach for the handle and open the door. His feet on the slightly uneven ground felt unsteady, like he had had too much to drink.

The corners of his lips twitched in bitter amusement as his brain caught up and analyzed the thought. He fished in his pocket for his key ans shoved it roughly into the lock, pulled the door open and went inside. Alan followed him without a word. He could almost feel his brother's eyes on him, watching him with concern mixed with curiosity, as though he was wondering how Edgar was going to react.

Edgar wondered that himself, actually. The sense of mental anesthesia was slowly wearing off, he was regaining the ability to think in a straight line. But there was no panic rising inside him. Shock was draining away to reveal another kind of numbness.

He turned and glanced at his brother. Alan had closed the door behind him, and was leaning back on it. His eyes met Edgar's and maintained contact until Edgar tore away. Once upon a time, they had shared everything, there had been no secrets between them, they knew each other's every innermost thought. Then Alan had been forced to drink; dragged against his will into a world Edgar didn't understand, one he had seen only from the outside. He hadn't wanted to know about it. And Alan hadn't wanted to share.

Now their positions were reversed, but not really. Edgar was denied the privacy of secrecy. He couldn't pretend to be okay because Alan would know that he wasn't; that he couldn't possibly be. And he knew Alan's secrets now, some of them, at least. Some of the things he had carried with him without speaking out loud.

Edgar allowed himself to sink into the battered old couch, facing away from Alan's unwelcome understanding. He let his body slump forward until his head rested in his hands, then sat motionless, eyes cast downward.

He could still feel his brother's gaze, he felt himself begin to wilt under the scrutiny. Alan needed to be gone, or at the very least, he needed to say something. Silence had never been a problem for them, living in each other's pockets for so long, they had become so used to the constant presence of the other that they didn't need to speak. But tonight, the silence was awkward, stretched thin from overuse. He didn't think it was possible for things to be worse, but this made it worse.

Reluctantly, he pulled his head from his hands and turned briefly to look at his brother. Alan's gaze dropped instantly to the ground, caught out.

"Nice company you've been keeping," Edgar said. His voice sounded thankfully normal, he squeezed in a little sarcasm. "I can't think why you kept _him_ a secret."

Alan frowned. He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and took a step forward into the room. Edgar fought the urge to back away again. It would only have been for show. If the bloodlust did rise again, he knew now that a few extra feet between them would make no difference. He could still smell the blood in his brother's veins.

It occurred to him that Alan would have been able to smell his, every time they were together.

"Daniel's a little odd," Alan admitted, "But he's reliable, and he keeps a close eye on what's happening around town. And he was a good friend to me when I didn't have..." he stopped, a little abruptly. Edgar tilted his head as he watched him. When he didn't have anyone else. When Edgar hadn't been there.

Edgar felt himself go very still at words that he expected would make him flinch. He disguised the reaction by adjusting his position on the couch, and then sneaked a glance at his brother to see whether his subterfuge had been noticed, but Alan appeared not to even be looking at him, as though his words hadn't been intended to be hurtful

They probably hadn't been intended that way. Alan was, after all, stating a fact. Edgar hadn't exactly abandoned him, but after he had returned, neither had he gone out of his way to welcome him back with open arms. His visits had been few and far between, short and awkward. But it had been Alan's fault. Alan's, not his.

Alan had survived, he had done what they had always believed impossible, resisted the bloodlust, refrained from making a kill, retained some semblance of his humanity. But that was all. He had given up hope of becoming human again, and he had chosen to resign himself to a life in the shadows, eking out an existence living on animal blood. The man that finally returned to him after years of allowing his brother to believe him dead or worse, was not the same man that had fled after being forced to drink the blood.

He had become someone else. It wasn't just the vampirism, it was his acceptance of it. The way he had looked at him, expressionless, and told him that there was no hope. He hadn't just given up on his humanity, he had given up on _them_. On their team. On their brotherhood, even.

Edgar couldn't stand to see him like that, lost so deep in the shadows that he had become a shadow himself.

Edgar was never going to allow that to happen to himself. He was never going to stop fighting. Or if he ever did, the night he realized he had lost hope, that would be the night he finally did what Alan had prevented him from doing; piercing his own heart.

Alan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting. Edgar let the comment drop. He had more important things to worry about than his brother's hurt feelings. As for his description of Daniel, 'a little odd' didn't come close to covering it. The guy wanted to be a half vampire. What kind of insane masochist would make that kind of a decision? But again, more important things.

He had a vague recollection of Alan talking to Daniel after he came back in the room, while Edgar sat pouring all of his concentration into not freaking out, or at least not making his freak-out obvious. He had the feeling he had failed miserably. He also seemed to remember Alan saying something to him in the truck, before he gave up and allowed silence to reign. He had heard the words, but the meaning had been lost to him.

"Tell me we at least got something from him that we can use."

Alan nodded. "He knows where one of the larger covens sleep during the day. He thinks their leader is probably one of our potential head vamps."

Edgar slumped further into the couch. "That's all?"

"It's more than we had last night," Alan reminded him.

"Yeah, well," Edgar drew in a deep breath, feeling the oxygen filling his lungs and spreading to every corner of his strange, alien body. "This time last night, I was human." They had known they were facing a war between opposing masters, they had been trying to find out who they were, and of course it had been important, but things were different now; so much more urgent.

Alan didn't answer.

Since he had been back Edgar had grown used to silences from him. The days of jokes, shouting out stupid comments to one another during hunts, and even of real conversation, were gone. Once, they had been able to stay up all night, just talking. Not any more. It was as though the vampire infection had robbed his brother of a part of himself, even after he had been cured he retained some of the strange differentness that Edgar had blamed on what he thought of as his condition. He had ignored it, happy just to have him back, but it bothered him. Alan had come back different. You couldn't go through what he had, and remain the same. And now Edgar had had his first taste of the full horror, he wondered whether it had already begun to change him too.

Alan's silence left the comment hanging in the room, echoing in his ears like a scream in an empty cave.

Edgar pulled himself to his feet. Before they had gone to Daniel, Edgar had had no idea of his existence, he had been facing nights of hunting, trying to pry information from vampires before he killed them tracking down not just one, but two master vampires at the same time as he fought the vampire inside himself. Now, they knew where one of the masters might be.

"Fine, yeah. It's something. Lets go check it out."

Alan didn't move. He remained standing my the door, thumbs pulling at his belt loops, eyes cast downward.

Alan didn't want him to go. Alan didn't trust him.

That was okay, Edgar didn't trust himself.

Alan shook his head. "Edgar..."

They had had this argument once tonight already. Edgar had won. He had won the right to accompany Alan into a situation that he shouldn't have been in. If he had listened to Alan, he would have been safely at home, far away from any blood. Any open containers of blood, that is. The one in his refrigerator would still have been there. He should do as Alan was about to tell him, be a good little half vampire and sit around not helping himself. That was what they all did, apparently. But if he did that, it would mean sending Alan alone, into the vampires' lair.

He set his features hard, ready to fight his corner. "You can't go charging in there alone."

"You can't come," Alan told him bluntly.

"Just you, alone, against god knows how many vampires. Face it, Alan, you wouldn't stand a chance."

Alan frowned, looking affronted.

"No one would," Edgar clarified. "I wouldn't do it, and I'm always doing stupid stuff like that. You're out of practice, and you said yourself to that idiot halfie you're still getting used to being human again. And what's the first rule of hunting?"

Alan stared at him in surprise. Edgar frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that's the most you've said all night."

Edgar shrugged. It was true, he hadn't exactly been his usual, order giving, argumentative self. But it wasn't as though he didn't have a good reason. "I guess I ate something that agreed with me," he muttered. It was supposed to be a funny, but it had already fallen flat before he even uttered the words.

Alan's lips tightened. It almost looked like a smile, but there was no laughter in it, no joy or happiness. Again, he allowed the ill timed comment to hang in the air like a bad smell. Finally, he shook his head. A hand rubbed at his mouth before he spoke, massaging away the tension. "Probably too soon for jokes," he said quietly.

Still standing, Edgar leaned back. The corner of the couch dug into the small of his back. He folded his arms around himself and squeezed tightly. "Yeah," he agreed.

Suddenly, he didn't feel like fighting any more. It was as though his own stupid comment had somehow knocked the motivation out of him.

But that didn't mean he was willing to let Alan take that kind of a risk. He knew how it would end if he let him go. One human walking into a vampire lair in the middle of the night, he wouldn't have a chance. The vampires would overpower him, and Edgar would wake up in the morn... evening still a half vampire, with Alan either dead or in the same position.

"What's the first rule of hunting?" he asked again.

Alan sighed. "We're not fifteen any more. A lot's happened since we made up those rules."

The first stirrings of irritation began to gather in his chest and stomach. The emotion grew in intensity quickly, fueled, no doubt, by the monster inside him. He felt the creature riding the waves of emotion to the surface and quickly shut it down. He took a breath and tried not to feel. Not just the irritation, anything. Jesus. He couldn't even trust himself to get angry without it drawing the monster to the surface.

He straightened his posture, set his lips in a grim line, and stared Alan levelly in the eye. "Humor me."

Alan looked at him. Really looked at him, as though he could somehow look inside him and see the struggle against the vampire's sneak attack. He nodded. "Never go alone."

"You're right, things have changed. I've broken that rule so many times, but I have never run alone and unprepared into a vampire nest in the middle of the night. I plan, I check the place out first, I take backup if I need it. I go in the daytime if I can. I want this to be over with as soon as possible. Believe me, I do, but I'm not willing to risk your life. Not when you just got it back."

For a moment, Edgar thought he was going to get an argument, but either because he accepted that Edgar was right, or because he could see the need not to make him angry, Alan backed down. He nodded his acceptance and Edgar felt himself relax, the dropping of the tension in his body pushed the monster back down, where he could feel it settle down to wait patiently for its next opportunity.

"I'll just go and take a look at the place," Alan said.

"Wait 'til morning, when they're asleep," Edgar insisted. "Then report back to me before you do anything. I've already snacked on chilled blood, how much worse can it get if I have to wait another couple of hours?"

Alan looked away. He didn't make an attempt to answer the rhetorical question out loud, but the stricken expression on his face was enough of an answer for Edgar. Still less than twenty four hours into it, of course there were fresh horrors still to unearth.

Edgar gritted his teeth and again, tried not to feel. "Right," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," Alan said quietly and unexpectedly.

Edgar's head jerked toward him, tilted, he frowned in confusion. "For what?"

"What happened tonight," Alan explained. "It was my fault. I'm sorry."

Edgar shook his head. He wanted someone to blame, but that someone wasn't Alan. It wasn't even the idiot halfie who had forgotten that practically waving fresh blood under his nose might not be a great idea. Well, it was kind of his fault, actually. But the real blame lay with Edgar himself. He had insisted on going with Alan, convinced that everything would be fine. He had disrespected the monster inside him, not believed how powerful it really was, and it had demonstrated graphically what a mistake that had been. It was a mistake he wouldn't be repeating.

"I'm the one who insisted on going with you."

Alan nodded. "But I let you. I should have known what might happen, I wasn't thinking."

Let him. Edgar felt a stab of irritation at that. He didn't need permission to do anything. He and Alan had been looking after themselves since before junior high. No one let him, or forbade him from doing anything. Not even Alan. _He_ was head Frog. "You think you get to tell me what I can and can't do?" he asked.

Again, the vampire inside him grabbed hold of the irritation, feeding it until it grew into anger, using it to pull itself up to the surface.

Alan took a step backwards.

He had to not feel, he had to squash down anything that might give the monster strength. But it would be hard at the best of times. Now, with his life and his humanity at risk and everything that he believed and knew collapsing around him, it was impossible. He turned away, resting his head briefly in his hands and took a breath. Anger gave way to despair, and he could feel the monster working with that too. He could almost hear it whispering that it was hopeless, that there was no point in fighting it; he would only prolong his suffering before he surrendered anyway.

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore everything. Slowly, he turned back around to look at Alan. His brother hadn't moved. He was watching Edgar warily, but with concern rather than fear.

"_I'm_ sorry," Edgar said. "I didn't mean to say that, I'm..." The corners of his mouth stretched into a bitter smile. "I'm not myself tonight."

Alan didn't smile back. Instead, he stepped forward again, quickly re-covering the distance he had put between them. His hand reached out and touched Edgar lightly on the shoulder. No words, no hollow assurances that it would be okay, just comfort through proximity.

Edgar ached to pull him closer. He let him leave his hand there for a few seconds before he knocked it away and backed off a few steps.

"Don't get too close."

Alan sighed. Edgar know why. They were back to this. But at least if they were back to this, it meant that Edgar was thinking properly again.

"It was my fault," Alan said again. "I should have realized sooner and made Daniel take... it... away."

He probably should have, actually, Alan was the expert in this situation. Which is why Edgar should also have deferred to his judgment about what he should do. This was a team fuck up, there was no point arguing over who was more at fault. "I was weak," he said. "I should have been able to fight it." He folded his arms and allowed his fingertips to fiddle nervously with the fabric of his t-shirt as his mind drifted back to Daniel's apartment.

"It's too strong for anyone," Alan told him. "You can't fight it, not fully. You can resist, feed it animal blood to make it quieter, but at the start it's so much harder. Eventually, you'll learn how to control it."

"Eventually?" That word had a kind of permanence to it that Edgar really didn't like. It made him feel empty and sick, like the collapse of his world had suddenly accelerated. The monster's grip on his emotions tightened.

Alan's eyes widened as he realized what he had said. He shook his head, opening his mouth to backtrack, say that hadn't been what he meant. Edgar wasn't going to give him the chance.

"I don't want to learn to control it."

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded low and dangerous. The vampire pressed its way into the underside of his skin, still whispering in his ear. He could feel it taking over, stealing his control from him little by little.

He clenched his fists so hard that his too long, too strong nails dug into the palms of his hands. He wrestled it down. One balled fist slammed hard into the top of his leg, driving knuckles into flesh. He felt his nails pierce the skin of his own hand and blood begin to dampen his palm. The monster retreated, just a little. If it were possible, he thought he could feel its amusement.

"I want it _out of me!_"

It was half a cry of frustration, half a sob that cracked his voice. He wasn't even thinking about control any more.

"Yeah," Alan's eyes closed briefly, unable to look at his brother's anguish. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I know."

Slowly, Edgar peeled open his hand. His usually well chewed nails had grown above the tips of his fingers. They were sharp, and red with his own blood. In the palm of his hand were four perfect half moon shapes where they had pierced the skin. The unbroken skin around the wounds was slick with blood. He stared at it, fascinated. It looked normal, like human blood, but it wasn't human, and the monster didn't respond to it.

He dropped the hand to his side, pressing it against the fabric of his pants, soaking away the worst of the blood. He turned away in embarrassment at his outburst.

Vampires get angry, rage takes over in them much more quickly than in a human. Now he knew why. Even his emotions were no longer his own.

"Do you want me to go?" Alan asked.

Edgar looked at him blankly for a moment as the question penetrated his skull, them he nodded. "No, but I think it'd be better if you did."

Alan nodded. He glanced once around the trailer before taking a step toward the door. "What about the garlic? I could..."

"Leave it." Edgar told him. "Just... leave everything as it is. Come back tomorrow and we'll decide our next move."

Alan pushed down the handle and allowed the door to swing outwards, filling the trailer with silvery moonlight and night air. He hesitated and turned back. "Edgar..."

Edgar watched his brother's eyes flick quickly to the refrigerator before they turned to him. The refrigerator that contained a bottle of blood that only a few hours ago he had been so certain would stay there untouched. Now he knew that it probably wouldn't. He closed his eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Alan."

Without saying another word, Alan walked down the steps outside and pushed the door closed. Edgar heard the lock click and listened to the footsteps outside. He heard the truck door open and then close, the engine start, and his brother drive away. In his truck. When he'd had 'Frog Brothers' stenciled on the door, he hadn't intended joint ownership. But then, that was when Alan had been gone.

He forced in a deep breath, inhaling garlic and the lingering scent of Alan, then he opened his right hand and inspected the damage. The fingernail wounds were already healing, beginning to close up like they were hours old. Blood was drying on his palm. Slowly, he raised the hand to his mouth, stuck out his tongue and tasted.

The flavor was metallic and horrible. The monster didn't even stir inside him.

Disgusted with himself, he stalked onto the bathroom, spat in the sink to remove the lingering taste, and then ran his hand under scalding water until the healing wounds began to sting.


	7. Chapter 7

During his years as a half vampire, Alan had thought long and hard about his situation. He had practically become a vampire philosopher, pondering through the nights whether the terrible thirst and desire to do such unthinkable things truly came from himself, or something inside him. Had the vampire blood that had been forced upon him changed _him;_ changed his mind, his soul? Or had it only altered his body in order to make it a more suitable home for the monster now sharing the space? Was there a monster at all, or was he the monster pretending to still be a man?

He still didn't know the answers to these questions. All he knew was that he had fought it every night for five years, beating it down, drowning it in animal blood, ignoring its seductive whispers and even taking close control of his own thoughts and feelings, denying it anything that might make it stronger. He had learned to live with it, whatever it was, and it had changed him. Even now he was finally free, he knew he wasn't the person he used to be.

Sometimes, he missed himself. By the time it finally happened, he had long since given up on the possibility of regaining his humanity. Along with it, he had given his former self up for lost; yet another casualty in the ongoing war against the undead. But then he had been freed, and for a while he had thought that he was Alan Frog again. But he wasn't, not really. People change. A man is nothing but the sum of his experiences, and five years of torment is not an experience easily forgotten.

Whatever happened, he needed to keep Edgar alive. They had each vowed to kill themselves if they were ever turned, but Alan had failed. Edgar wouldn't. Not if he decided it was what he wanted. If he gave up hope the way Alan had done, Alan knew without a doubt that his brother would end his own life rather than accept a new one. So he had to keep hope alive, and he had to act quickly to destroy the monster residing within his brother before he, too, was forced to adapt in ways that could not be undone.

Alan had cleared his place out a little since he had become human again. There was no blood here anymore, and no animal carcases. The air smelled a little cleaner, free of the constant odor of rotting meat and the fresh blood that had taunted and tortured his oversensitive senses, bringing the creature within him to the surface time and again so that he could force it back down. Each time he had, he had felt himself grow a little stronger, gain a little more control over it and over his own life. By the end, the monster came out when he told it to. It served his purposes.

Once, he had brought the monster to the surface in order to demonstrate a point to his idealistic brother when he had come to him with another plan, reinforced by his naïve and so very human belief that Alan could be cured.

Alan had hated him for that at the time. Months passed between Edgar's visits, and when he did come, he had finally stopped bringing plans and schemes, and just settled down into an uncomfortable kind of acceptance. Then, he had come back with another plan.

Edgar had been so hopeful that it had begun to awaken hope in him too. But he hadn't wanted that. He had wanted Edgar to accept the truth, that they would never find the head vampire, and that Alan would never be human again. Because Alan had missed him, and if Edgar could accept what his brother had become, they could begin to rebuild their relationship in different terms.

But Edgar had been too stubborn, and too determined to cling to hope. That was why Alan had allowed the monster to rise to the surface, taunting his brother with what he had become, trying to push the hope away.

Now, he prayed Edgar could hang onto it.

He looked around his home. In the past few months, Edgar had asked him time and again to move out of his 'hovel of death', as he insisted on calling it, but Alan couldn't. This had been his sanctuary from the world, his own fortress of solitude where he had learned control. This place had made him who he was. He needed it.

As Edgar began to feel the effects of the sun more strongly, as the monster inside him grew to maturity, he wondered whether his brother would need it too.

He gave it one final glance before he pulled the door closed behind him. It shut with the heavy clang of metal on metal, like the door to a prison cell closing. That was how he had used to think of it, the heavy door separated him, the monster with the thirst for blood, from his potential victims outside.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly.

He blinked against its glare. Even to human eyes, it was bright. Heat soaked immediately into the black material of his clothes. It always took him by surprise. Even now, after months of being human, stepping outside into the sunlight felt wonderful, but also somehow wrong.

Edgar's truck was parked outside in the alley where he had left it. Alan didn't have his own car. He used to be able to fly. Now that he no longer could, he relied on Edgar to ferry him around town, buying a car had seemed like a needless expense. Now, with Edgar out of action, he had appropriated the truck for himself. Edgar had been in no state to drive the night before, and would be unconscious for most of the day.

Anyway, now Edgar could fly.

The thought stopped him in his tracks, his hand on the door of the truck. He closed his eyes and tried to banish it from his mind. He wondered whether it had occurred to his brother, and whether if he ever tried it, he would learn to enjoy the feeling of the wind on his skin.

With more force than he intended, Alan thrust the door open. It flew as wide as it would go and then bounced half way back with a staining sound. He cursed under his breath and quickly cast his eye over the door looking for any obvious damage. It looked fine, or no worse than it had done before.

Alan slipped inside, turned off the faulty air conditioning and wound the windows down so the air would circulate. It wasn't like flying, but it was the closest he would ever get again.

* * *

The address was scribbled on the back of a drugstore receipt that Alan fished from his pocket to double check as he brought the truck to a stop about a block from his destination.

It was a built up and run down area at the other side of town, miles from the beach. A sea of concrete; wide, empty roads beginning to fall into disrepair, gray houses bleached of any color by the relentless sun. Though the sun was no brighter here, but the heat seemed more oppressive. There was almost no breeze, the air was completely still.

It was a well known fact that vampires gravitated toward death and suffering. The area felt wrong, in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Something had happened here in the past that had drawn the vampires here, something that continued to be felt even today.

The streets were eerily quiet. The few people he passed as he walked kept their eyes ahead or down, not even glancing in his direction, as though they didn't even notice him. The silence amplified the sound of his boots on the concrete sidewalk, and the sense of foreboding in the air seemed to intensify as he neared the address on the scrap of paper in his hand.

In the same way that some vampires employ canine protectors to keep them safe during the day, others have human servants who watch over them while they sleep. Deluded fools who are kept interested by the promise of immortality in exchange for their services, and eventually used as a source of food when the vampires tire of them. He had seen it before. Any one of the people on the street could be watching for them; the young girl pushing a stroller, the middle aged man with a walking stick. Alan kept his head down, following their lead, trying to look uninteresting and uninterested as he stole glances around him.

The house he was looking for was easy to spot. If the rest of the street was falling apart, this one building was crumbling. It was as though the house had become corrupted by the vampires that were calling it home, and as if everything that was wrong in the area had spread outward from that source, infecting the whole neighborhood with vampire filth. The house looked as though it had lain abandoned for decades. Graying paint peeled from the door and window frames, the windows were boarded up as though to guard against vandals throwing stones. Of course, that wasn't the real reason.

It was a large building, and stood alone, not sharing a wall with any of its neighbors. The nearby houses and buildings looked equally empty. Danger floated thickly in the air, even through the blazing sunlight, and Alan wondered how it was possible that Edgar didn't already know about this place and hadn't already taken steps to eliminate it. A huge chunk of town had been taken over by the monsters. Someone had to have noticed that.

As he approached, it occurred to him that this was the first time as a human that he had hunted without Edgar. As a half vampire he spent his first few nights desperately trying to hunt down and kill the head vampire, freeing himself from the bloodlust growing inside him, but human Alan had always had his brother by his side. Edgar hadn't. The years that Alan had spent struggling against his own personal vampire had forced Edgar to hunt alone. He had grown used to it, but Alan had not. Now, he realized, he may have to.

He passed the house slowly, keeping to the sunlight as he walked. It made no sense. Vampires didn't lurk in the shade on a sunny day, but the warmth on his skin reassured him. Keeping his eyes mostly down, he flicked his gaze to the house and back, taking in as many details as he could.

Once upon a time, it would have been a pleasant home, possibly in a desirable neighborhood. But that was before the rot had begun to set in. Now, even if they destroyed all the vampires completely, he doubted the area would ever recover. Evil taints a place. It is that taint that attracts yet more evil. Once it begins, it is difficult to stop.

All the windows were well boarded. While the vampires could probably break through if they needed to, he theorized they probably used the front door. Around the back there was a small garden, now fallen to disuse and grown wild. The back door lay beyond a forest of overgrown thorn bushes, but could probably also be used. Especially by someone who could fly.

He walked back around the front and risked a glance around. He could see no one watching him. His hand brushed the stakes in their holster at his belt. He wore a thick jacket, too warm for the weather, but it concealed them, as well as the gun. It fired pellets filled with holy water – a little more high tech than the water pistols they had used to use. He also had a garlic bulb in each pocket, and a UV flashlight already in his hand.

He hesitated by the front door. Edgar had told him not to go inside. This was a recon mission only, not a hunt. But the outside of the house had told him nothing, he needed more. If the vampires were sleeping, they probably wouldn't wake unless he attacked. If they did, he could defend himself. They needed to have an idea of numbers, possibly even some indication of which vampire was the head bloodsucker. Maybe he could even finish it now. Edgar had told him not to go in, but Alan didn't think for a second that his brother would have followed his own advice.

His mouth was dry. He forced himself to swallow and turned the door handle slowly.

It was unlocked. The monsters weren't too worried about home security. Big surprise. The door swung open with the quiet creak of old, un-oiled hinges, and after the brightness of the sunlight outside, he was almost blind in the darkness.

Sunlight shone around him, illuminating the room, and slowly, his eyes began to adjust. The room was a small lobby leading to several doors and a flight of stairs. Old, yellowing wallpaper peeled from the walls, revealing crumbling plaster underneath. The floor was uncarpeted and as he took his first careful steps inside, the bare floorboards creaked under the weight of his footsteps. The air smelled damp and unhealthy.

He turned on his flashlight, and pushed open the door to the first room.

Vampires smell of death and decay. A revolting, almost sickly sweet odor of rot and diseased flesh. It oozes from their skin, contaminating the world around them. It was a smell that Alan knew well by now. The first time he had encountered it, he had been a child playing at being a soldier, marching into the vampires' lair with his brother and Sam. Edgar had killed his first vampire that day. Since then, he had noticed it everywhere, while hunting, in places where vampires have been, even on the wind when it blew in a certain direction.

By far the worst time had been the first time he had smelled it on his own skin. As a half vampire, the smell had been weaker, but he had known it so well that it had been unmistakable. To a half vampire desperately struggling to hold onto his humanity, it had been a horrifying revelation. That same smell filled this room, so strong and thick that he almost choked. The room was as dark as the first, and as empty.

Suppressing the urge to cough or hold his breath, he backed out slowly and tried the next room, and then the next. Each one was empty of everything but the stench of vampires. The uneasiness that had been with him since he had parked the car increased rapidly. Something was wrong.

The final door in the bottom of the house opened onto a staircase down into the basement. He paused at the top, not sure whether he should continue. He turned around and glanced at the stairs upwards, leading to the rest of the house.

The sun is death to a vampire. Even when shut away from it, hidden in dark rooms, in caves, in coffins, it's mere presence in the sky is enough to drain their energy and render them weak and exhausted. But despite that, a vampire is much stronger than a human; weak to them is still stronger than most mortals, and if they keep out of the light, they can retain consciousness in the daytime if they choose. It is not easy for them, but they can do it. If they were upstairs, watching him, one step into the basement and they could fly down faster than his human eyes could perceive, and corner him there. Or, they could be waiting in the basement to follow him up the stairs. It was times like this when a hunter needed backup.

He backtracked to the front door and opened it widely, flooding the room with daylight. The sun spilled onto the floor right up to the basement door, making an ambush more difficult. He swung his flashlight up the stairs one more time, trapping no vampires in the beam, and then he began to creep slowly down into the basement.

The odor of decay was stronger still down there. Each footstep on the wooden staircase creaked loudly, announcing his presence. His flashlight moved constantly, checking all corners of the room below, spinning around to check behind him. His free hand gripped a stake tightly, ready to fight back. There was nothing behind him but the faint glow of daylight.

From halfway down the stairs, he swung the flashlight around the basement. Again, nothing. The room was almost completely empty. Something glimmered in the artificial daylight of the flashlight, and he moved a little closer. It was a gold chain, broken as though it had been yanked forcefully from someone's neck. A few feet away, the pendant that had hung from it had landed. A tiny cross. It had presumably done little to help its owner.

He left the chain where it had fallen, and climbed back up the stairs. The next flight of stairs looked as black and foreboding as the basement had. They had to be there. If they were anywhere, they had to be upstairs. If they hadn't attacked yet, they were probably sleeping, dead in their coffins. Vampires living in houses tended to sleep in coffins as an extra layer of protection against the sunlight.

He steeled himself, rechecked his weapons, and walked up.

The second floor was just as empty as the first. There was nothing in the house but bloodstains and that terrible smell. Vampires had been here, recently and for a long time, but now they were gone.

Alan closed the front door as he left. If they returned, they would probably sense that someone had disturbed their home, but there was no point making it obvious. The sun beat down on him mercilessly as he walked quickly back to the truck. Every muscle shook with anger and disappointment.

He fought against his automatic instinct to suppress the emotions that the vampire that was no longer in him could have used to wrestle control away from him, and forced himself to hold onto the anger. It burned white hot in his veins. This had been all they had to go on, and it was a dead end.

* * *

The smell of decay and death still clung to his clothes as though it had recognized him as a former night dweller and attached itself to him in the absence of the vampires that had brought it into existence. He couldn't stop smelling it, another unpleasant reminder of what was happening. He thought of Edgar, unconscious under the force of the sunlight that was almost too much for his currently human brother.

He wound down the windows again and shed his thick jacket, placing his concealed weapon underneath it on the passenger seat beside him. He couldn't go to Edgar, and he didn't want to go home. He shifted the truck into drive, and sped toward the center of town.

He parked by the beach. His muscles felt unused, they ached for action. In the absence of any vampires to fight, he settled for a brisk walk along the beach and through the sunny streets of San Cazador's busy shopping district. He had left his weapons in the car, but still he felt that something about him was drawing the glances of the residents and tourists as he strode toward his destination.

The Book O'Neer was busy today, the clientele made up mostly of kids looking to blow their pocket money. Someone he didn't know, a man, was working the cash desk, while Zoe busied herself restocking the shelves. She had her back to the door and couldn't possibly have seen him, but as soon as he entered, she spun 180 degrees and stared at him intently. No one else in the shop paid him any attention.

She beckoned him over, and he did as he was asked. She turned and disappeared into a door to a back room marked 'Employees only'. Alan followed her.

The back room of their comic shop back in Santa Carla – their parents had owned it, but he and Edgar had always thought of it as theirs – had been a kitchen and sitting room combination. An old couch had been squeezed in between the noisy refrigerator and the almost always empty shelves. Excess stock had been kept in boxes wherever they had room; sometimes stacked on the kitchen table, more often than not in their bedroom upstairs. This was a real shop, not an addition to someone's house. Their back room was filled with almost as many comic books and bits of sci-fi merchandise as the front.

Zoe folded her arms and leaned back against a shelf, staring at him. "How is he?" she demanded.

Alan shrugged. "As well as you'd expect," he said, which wasn't strictly speaking true, but he didn't think Edgar would appreciate him sharing the details. Come to think of it, if Edgar found out he was sharing anything at all, Alan was sure it wouldn't end well.

"So he's still..." she waved a hand through the air. The gesture meant nothing, but the meaning was clear. She began to chew on her bottom lip.

Alan nodded without speaking and Zoe closed her eyes briefly as she took in the news.

"Shit," she muttered. Her eyes were wide and haunted. "I bet this is killing him."

Alan sat down heavily on a wooden stool next to the door. Anyone who had ever met Edgar would know this was the worst case scenario for him, but there was something in her tone and her expression that spoke of deep concern and fear. Now he knew why he had come back here. Right now, Zoe was the only person he could talk to that would understand, if only because she knew Edgar almost as well as he did.

"Do you know where the head vampire is yet?" she asked. "You need to find him before..."

"I know what I need to do," he told her, cutting her off before she could finish.

Zoe nodded, her eyes seemed to shine in the light of the electric bulb. The store room had no windows. "So, any leads?"

Alan shook his head. "Nothing."

"Well, no offense, but you reek of vampires," she told him. "So I know you've been doing something..."

She froze as the storeroom door handle turned and the door swung open. The man from behind the counter walked in and blinked in confusion. "There you are," he said.

Zoe nodded. "Here I am," she confirmed cheerily. "Something I can help you with?"

"Yeah, actually. If you wouldn't mind doing your job? I'm drowning in teenage geeks out there." He glanced sideways at Alan. "And this room is supposed to be employees only."

Zoe fixed him with an irritated glare. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be right out."

The guy looked Alan up and down once, then turned back to Zoe. "I thought you were dating that other guy anyway. Well, you definitely have a type."

"I'm not dating anyone," she told him. "Now get out of here before the customers start running off with the merchandise. I'll be out in a minute."

The man rolled his eyes and gave Zoe a superior sneer, then grabbed something from the shelf and left, slamming the door behind him. Zoe stared after him, and Alan thought he could see her eyes glow softly in the dim light. He wondered what she was. Not human, definitely. Not vampire.

"Asshole," she muttered to the closed door. "Alright, so tell me everything that's happened."

Alan shook his head. "No. It's not good, but it's not important. Tonight I have to tell Edgar I'm getting nowhere and he can't come hunting with me. He's not ready, but I need some backup. I don't really know anyone else, you already know what's happening. I know you can handle yourself in a fight, so if you..."

"Say no more," she told him. "It's a date. Pick me up at eight?"

"Nine," he corrected. "I need to talk to Edgar first."

"Alright. I should go defend the comic books from sticky fingered teenage thieves."

Alan allowed himself half a smile, he remembered that job well.

He pushed open the door and walked through the busy shop, treating Zoe's coworker to a glare as he did. He stared back defiantly for several seconds before he dropped his gaze and pretended to be interested in something at the other side of the room. Alan gave the shop one last glance over before he stepped back outside into the sunlight.

* * *

Edgar rose with the sinking sun. The approaching darkness drove away the exhaustion and consciousness slowly began to creep in.

There was no moment of confusion this time, no fleeting seconds where he was permitted the blissful lack of awareness of his situation, he awoke with the knowledge fresh in his mind and the early stages of hunger gnawing on his stomach.

He flexed open his hand and stared at the palm. The wounds had healed closed, leaving four crescent moons of new skin, pale and almost translucent, shining as they reflected the light of the real moon shining in through the small gaps at the edges of his blinds.

He stretched widely, adjusting his position as he did. Suddenly, he was struck by the strangest sensation. The mattress underneath him was gone. He was looking at his trailer from the wrong angle. He turned his head and glanced around and the world seemed to tilt. He was hovering above the bed, not far from the ceiling.

Panicked hands reached out in all directions trying to find anything to hold onto, to anchor himself in place. He felt his heart beating far too quickly, pumping adrenaline into his veins, torturing his already over-stimulated nervous system. His hands, damp with sweat gripped a shelf on the wall behind him and tried to push himself downward. Legs kicked ineffectually, as though he could somehow swim through the air like water. He fought the urge to cry out in fear as his body steadfastly refused to acknowledge gravity.

This was a step too far. Another one. Any more steps too far, and he would be walking over the edge. Which apparently wouldn't be a problem any more. He had known half vampires could fly, he had seen it happen. He had assumed they could control it, which meant they could choose not to do it. Ever.

Apparently, this was one more part of his life he had no control over.

Frustrated, but apparently in no danger of falling, he forced his hands to release their grip on the shelf, and felt himself float the extra foot up to the ceiling. Once there, he pushed upward with his hands and feet, trying to force himself down again.

Finally, completely independently from his efforts, he began to sink slowly back down to earth. When he finally made contact with the bed, he reached out automatically and grabbed the headboard tightly with both hands. For several minutes, he couldn't bring himself to let go, and simply lay there, feeling the reassuring surface of his unmade bed underneath him and the subtle force of gravity holding him firmly in place.

Finally, he pried his own fingers free and got to his feet. The floor felt solid and reliable underfoot, but suddenly he felt as though it could fall away at any moment.

He felt a familiar sensation, and it chilled him to the bone. He was hungry.

It felt like regular hunger, the normal empty, hollow feeling in his stomach that reminded him when he had forgotten to eat. That didn't seem right. The hunger the previous night had been extreme; painful. It had gripped hold of him with both hands, long talons digging into every fiber of his being while something inside him screamed and begged and coerced until he had no choice but to do as he was told.

This felt normal. Human.

For a brief moment, a wonderful possibility occurred. Alan had killed the head vampire. Any minute now, he would show up in bloodstained clothes, with his battle story at the ready, and they would toast victory with Frog juice. Edgar would have to reprimand his soldier for disobeying orders and going on more than a recon mission, but it would be halfhearted, and they would smile, and maybe hug, and when the sun came up, neither one of them would be forced to seek shelter.

Then he thought of floating, and knew that he was still a monster.

Maybe Alan had killed the head vampire between then and now. Maybe that was what brought him down to earth.

But no. It was a pleasant fantasy, but he knew that was all it was. He could still feel the creature inside him, curled comfortably around his innards, slumbering lazily, waiting for its moment. The hunger may feel natural, but that was nothing more than a trick of the mind, replacing one sensation with another, more recognizable one. Thoughts of real food turned his stomach. Against his will, his mind threw out the image of blood.

Not of violence and death and throats torn open, but of blood neatly stored in a bottle in his refrigerator. Chilled animal blood. Breakfast of champions.

His stomach clenched in preparation for the wave of disgust that was supposed to wash over him at the thought, but once again his body betrayed him, and it didn't come. Instead, the monster within stretched and began to pay attention.

Once he had thought about it, he couldn't _stop_ thinking about it. It was as though the blood was calling to him, like the smell of a home cooked meal to a hungry man. Once he remembered it was there, it became impossible to ignore.

He tried.

He paced the trailer, pausing occasionally to glance outside, hoping to see his truck pull up outside and Alan climb out with information they could use to formulate a plan. The area around the trailer remained frustratingly empty. He switched on the television, but nothing was interesting enough to distract him. He needed to do something physical, something that would leave him exhausted and strung out on adrenaline. He had too much energy, and it wasn't natural energy. His nighttime state was to opposite of the daytime, while the sun drained his strength, night compensated by giving him too much.

He needed to fight, or to run. Or to fly.

He blinked in surprise and tried to suppress that thought too.

The bottle was still calling to him, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. The loss of control the previous night had been the most terrifying thing he had ever had to face, and although he was in control now, he could feel the part of him that was a monster growing stronger. He didn't know himself any more, he could no longer trust his responses to anything. He didn't know, once the vampire started demanding blood, how long he could hold out.

Sam's brother had lasted several days without tasting a drop. Laddie and the girl, Star, even longer. Sam, he had no idea, but he would have fought it. And Alan, almost two weeks, he said, before he had chosen a compromise and taken the first step toward accepting the shadows into his life. But he, Edgar, he had lasted less than twenty four hours. And now, he was considering drinking again.

Who would have though that he would be the weakest of them all?

But if it would keep the vampire placated, it might be a price worth paying. Alan had thought so, and it had saved his life. The lesser of two evils, drinking animal blood by choice, or attacking someone, possibly even attacking Alan, and never getting the chance to regret it because he would have become a monster.

He switched off the television and paced into the kitchen. He found himself standing in front of the refrigerator. The smell of garlic that permeated the trailer was stronger here than anywhere else, and it was that that made him feel dizzy and ill, not the thing he was contemplating doing.

As he lifted his arm to open the door, it felt unnaturally heavy, as though part of him was resisting, trying to hold him back. He pulled open the door and blinked at the yellow light inside. There, on the top shelf, right where Alan had left it, was the bottle.

It was a plastic bottle with a screw on lid, the kind that soft drinks are sold in, but this one was filled with a much more sinister liquid. The label had been torn off, leaving a sticky residue on the side of the plastic, and replaced by a small white label bearing a date three days in the future. A use by date? Edgar frowned. The writing on the label wasn't Alan's. It belonged to whoever had given him the blood, presumably. Working on the assumption that his brother hadn't gone back to draining it himself.

"Okay," Edgar muttered to himself. A declaration of his readiness, or attempted reassurance, he wasn't sure. He reached out and lifted the bottle down from the shelf.

He closed his eyes for a moment and listened carefully for the distant sound of an approaching car that would indicate Alan's imminent arrival, but he heard nothing. Satisfied that he wouldn't be disturbed, he slunk the two short steps across the kitchen and into a chair. The bottle was placed directly in front of him, where he stared at it critically.

This would be the third time in as many nights that he had drunk blood, first vampire blood, then what he had been given by Daniel, and now this. But this would be the first time he had done so voluntarily.

Despite its innocuous container, the substance contained within was unmistakable as blood. He could feel the monster's excitement at the prospect of a feed, and its disappointment at the fact that the blood was not human. "This is all you're getting," he told it with a thought. "Take it or leave it."

He moved to unscrew the bottle, and the hunger pressed harder inside him with a kind of urgency this time. He ran his tongue carefully against the tops of his teeth, and touched fang.

He drew back immediately, instinctively. "Stupid," Edgar told it, out loud this time. He ran a hand over his brow nervously and shook his head. "Put them away, there's nothing to bite."

His hand lingered on the bottle lid for several more seconds before he shook his head, got to his feet and shoved the bottle back into the refrigerator. He could wait. He was Edgar Frog; he didn't give in to a vampire, not without a fight. Not even when the vampire happened to be him.

Steadfastly ignoring the fangs in the hope that they would go away, he looked out of the window. Still no sign of Alan. His cellphone, abandoned for several nights on the shelf near his bed, beeped plaintively as the battery died. He grabbed it, plugged it in, and out of interest checked for messages. Maybe Alan had called while he was sleeping.

There was one voicemail stored on the phone. He pressed it, listened to the voice on the other end, and frowned. It was Zoe.

"Hey, Edgar. Um, sorry you couldn't make lunch the other day. I hear you're... sick. I hope you get better soon, I really do." She paused, and for a moment Edgar thought it was the end of the message, then she sighed into the receiver. "Edgar, get in touch, okay? Let me know you're all right."

The message ended with a quiet click and Edgar pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it in horror. His mind raced.

Zoe had been talking to Alan. Had she gone to him, or had he stopped by the comic shop to make excuses for him? And if she had gone to him, why him and not Edgar? He had forgotten he was supposed to meet her for lunch, if she wanted to know where he was, why not call him? No, Alan had to have gone to her. But why would he do that?

More importantly, what exactly had he told her? That little pause as though she was tripping over the work 'sick', like she had been trying to say something else. Did she know? Had Alan told her?

Anxiety stirred, and just like the previous night, he felt the vampire take hold of the emotion and begin to use for itself. He took a deep breath and tried to shut the reaction down. It didn't quite work, but he continued his efforts to calm himself.

He placed the phone on the floor near the socket and began to pace again. The phone taunted him, and he needed to know. He hadn't actually told Alan not to tell people, but he had assumed his brother would already know that. If this got out, if people found out, he was finished. Okay, that wasn't true. He could come back from it as Alan had done, but if people knew... it would just be humiliating, that's all.

He paused mid step in his pacing.

Humiliating? He had bigger things to worry about than his reputation right now. He couldn't believe that that thought had even occurred to him. The fact that it had, meant that he was becoming complacent. Already, what was happening to him was beginning to take a back seat to other, less important concerns. Almost as though being a half vampire was becoming normal. That was unacceptable.

His chain of thought was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Alan. Still too far away for human ears to notice, but in the silence of the area surrounding his trailer, vampire hearing picked it up easily. He gave his phone one last irritated glance, and sat down on the couch to wait.

* * *

Alan got out of the truck and started walking toward Edgar's trailer. He stopped just as he crossed the salt circle. Something was different. He examined the trailer carefully, comparing it to the image in his mind, looking for differences. The garlic was still hanging by the door to ward off the undead, the circle of salt was beginning to look a little worn, obviously it hadn't been strengthened in a few days, but it was still there. Everything was as it was supposed to be.

Then he realized. The windows were dark. There were no lights on inside the trailer. Edgar didn't even turn out the light to sleep. If he was inside, the light should be on. If he had left... Alan didn't even want to think about what it would mean if his brother was gone.

He jogged the final few steps to the door and began hammering on it loudly, shouting Edgar's name. Almost instantly, the door swung open, to reveal a confused looking half vampire with a serious case of bed head. Refusing to look in the mirror didn't do great things for your appearance.

"What?" Edgar asked.

Alan relaxed instantly, and Edgar stepped aside to allow him entry. "The lights are out," Alan explained, feeling a little sheepish at his panic. "I thought you might have left."

Edgar's eyes met his for a moment, then he looked away again. "Not much point banging on the door of an empty trailer," he remarked. He pressed the light switch and instinctively squinted and covered his eyes against the glare of the sudden change in light intensity.

"No, I guess not." Something was wrong with Edgar. Something more than the obvious. His brother appeared subdued, emotionally flat. In someone he didn't know well, he might have taken if for calm, but it wasn't. It was more like exhaustion, or depression.

When Edgar's eyes had adjusted and he could open them without squinting, he turned his gaze back to Alan. "How did it go?"

The recon mission. Alan inhaled slowly, trying to decide how to phrase utter failure in a way that wouldn't let his brother lose hope. His lungs filled before he had any success, and Edgar was staring at him, waiting. He couldn't drag it out any longer.

"Not great."

He explained about the house in the suburbs, the signs of vampire habitation, and the fact that they were no longer there. Edgar sank into the closest chair as he listened. When Alan was finished, he looked at Edgar for his response. Edgar was sitting on the chair at the dining table, staring down at his knees.

For a long moment, Edgar remained completely still, not even blinking as he processed the information. Finally, he got to his feet, pushing his chair out of the way with the backs of his knees as he straightened his legs. In the silence, it scraped loudly on the floor. He drummed his fingers quickly on the surface of the table, and then turned to Alan. "That was our only lead."

Alan nodded slowly.

"Shit!" The hand that had been tapping on the table balled into a tight fist. Edgar turned away and walked a few steps in one direction, stopped, and walked back. Pacing. Deprived of the ability to do anything to help himself but needing some kind of activity to use up the excess energy that the night had given him. He held his body tensely, as he walked back and forth.

Alan folded his arms across his chest as he waited.

"Shit!" Edgar said again. "Shit shit shit shit _shit!_" One fist raised into the air and was driven hard into the trailer's wall. The metallic clunk reverberated around the room as Edgar drew back his fist and cradled it in his other hand, wincing in pain.

Alan continued to wait. The famous Edgar Frog temper coupled with the lack of emotional control common in half vampires. This wasn't Edgar. Not really. Edgar was impulsive, and yes he could have a quick temper when he found himself backed into a corner, but he would never behave like this. This was the vampire in him, using his emotions against him in a bid for control. Hopefully, the pain in his hand would help drive it back down.

Just in case it didn't, Alan rested his hand on one of his stakes. He had no intention of staking Edgar, but hopefully the sight of it would... Who was he kidding? He released his grip, and took several preemptive steps toward the door.

Edgar was facing away from him, leaning over slightly as he cradled his injured right hand in his left, Alan remained silent, waiting for the internal battle to be resolved, ready to run for his life if Edgar didn't win.

Finally Edgar looked up again, the attack of anger had abated and the flatness had returned. Alan realized with a jolt that Edgar was attempting to do what he had done, control the vampire by controlling himself. But he was new to it, and it wasn't easy. The flatness wasn't depression, it was an artificial calm that Edgar was trying to wrap around his vampire half.

It didn't work quite like that, but it was a step in the right direction.

Edgar took a deep breath and nodded at him. Crisis averted. He detected a hint of pride in his expression, before that, too was smoothed away and replaced with the mask of calm.

"So," Edgar said finally. He released his injured hand and flexed the fingers experimentally. The force of their impact into the wall seemed not to have damaged them at all. "What have you been saying to Zoe?"

Alan froze like a guilty rabbit in the headlights of Edgar's glare. "What?"

"She let me a message, she heard I was 'sick'" he spoke in a way that put verbal quotation marks around the word sick, and Alan relaxed slightly. For one horrible moment, he thought she might have told him that she knew. Had he asked her not to? He thought back over their two conversations, and found that he couldn't remember.

"I had to tell her something," he said.

Edgar continued to glare. Artificial calm was flaking away piece by piece. "No you didn't," he countered.

"Yeah, I..."

"Did you really tell her I was sick?" Edgar demanded, "because, what would make you think of doing something like that? I know she didn't go to you and ask where I was; she'd have come to me first."

Alan suppressed a triumphant smile as Edgar answered himself. "Exactly. Did you want her coming up here looking for you?"

Edgar frowned thoughtfully and almost looked reassured, then the frown deepened into a scowl. "What if she arrives with chicken soup now, or something?"

"You're contagious," Alan told him.

"Oh." Edgar sat back in his chair, visibly relaxing as he bought the lie.

"I needed to tell her something, anyway," Alan added. "You were right, I need backup. And if you can't hunt, I need good reason why not."

"You want Zoe to be your backup?" Edgar shook his head. "She's good in a fight, but wouldn't someone else be a better choice? Blake?"

Alan shook his head. The few dealings he had had with the former congressman had been less than comfortable. "He doesn't trust me; he's still convinced I'm a vampire sleeper agent or something. And he's more paranoid than you are. If he starts suspecting something's going on with you..."

Edgar didn't reply. He suddenly looked worried. Alan wondered whether it was the possibility of losing a weapons supplier that bothered him, or of losing one of his few friends.

"Yeah, he told me he doesn't like you much," Edgar said after a while. He frowned in remembered irritation. "I told him you got turned saving his sorry ass and he should be grateful. Shut him right up."

Not that Alan didn't appreciate the effort, but he didn't need another friend. What he did need was his brother back.

"I can hunt," Edgar added. "I'm in control now. You lead the team if you want, but I can back you up."

Alan shook his head.

"I'll do what you say. You tell me to get out of the fight, I'm out. If you don't want me fight at all, I'll just wait in the truck the whole time. Anything is better than staying here."

"No," he stuck to his guns this time. The conversation had taken a turn down in the same direction as the previous night. Then, he had agreed to take Edgar with him, and the night had ended in disaster. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. "It's too dangerous."

"I'm in control," Edgar repeated.

It was true, for now he was in control, and Alan had watched him win a small victory against the vampire just a few short moments ago that had no doubt buoyed his confidence in his strength of will, but it wasn't that easy.

"You are," he agreed. "But what about if someone gets hurt? We're saving someone from a vampire attack, we fight off the vampire, but in the process the victim falls down and cuts themselves. Remember how you reacted to animal blood in the room? You won't be able to resist human blood. And if you can't resist in that situation, you'll turn."

Edgar's confidence faltered. He took a step backwards and shook his head. "You wouldn't let me do that."

"No, not if I could stop you. But I need backup I can rely on. I can't trust you at the moment. You think you're in control, but you're wrong."

He saw a flash of red in Edgar's eyes, only for a second, and then it was gone, but it had been there, and he could tell from the expression on his brother's face before he once again attempted to shut down his emotions, that he had felt it happen.

"Fine," Edgar said. It sounded sulky, which coming from Edgar just sounded wrong.

"I'll let you know everything that happens," Alan promised. "It's just safer for you to stay here. Safer for everyone, including you."

"Yeah," Edgar said gruffly. "I know." He folded his arms tightly, sat back down at the table, stood up again, then turned and looked around the trailer, not letting Alan see his face. "Don't know what I was thinking. I just want to get outside."

Alan nodded. Edgar was still facing away from him, and didn't see. "I'll be back before it gets light," he promised.

He glanced at the door to the refrigerator and wondered whether Edgar had fed. Probably not. But when he came back, he would bring an extra bottle just in case. No point saying anything, it would only make things worse.

Instead, he turned, opened the door and stepped outside. He closed it behind him and checked his watch. Eight thirty. Just enough time to drive back into San Cazador and pick up Zoe.


	8. Chapter 8

Edgar felt himself relax the moment he heard the door close. Alan's scent still lingered in the air. It wasn't one particular smell, it was a combination of several that combined to mean Alan. The smell of his sweat masked by the clean smells of his soap, shaving cream and deodorant, the faint smell of vampires, that stench of decay and death that followed the undead around. He had encountered it while searching the house, he assumed. But over and above all the other smells, was the scent of his blood.

It had followed him into the trailer, surrounding him like a cloud that once he was inside had begun to expand until it filled every inch of the room. Edgar's growing hunger had seized hold of him with both hands and forced him to pay attention.

Alan had been right. He wasn't in control. The vampire in him, or the part of him that was a vampire, was not so easily silenced. He shouldn't be where people were. He knew that. He had known it even as he was arguing his case, and yet he was still angry at Alan's refusal. It made no sense. Nothing made sense any more.

Outside, he heard the familiar sound of the engine of his truck firing and wheels turning on gravel as Alan drove away. Only now did he turn around and watch through the window as his brother disappeared into the distance, off to fight his battle for him. That was the it, wasn't it? If he had a problem, he dealt with it himself; he wasn't used to letting someone else take care of it, having to trust someone else like that. Even when the someone else happened to be his brother, it was just not in his nature.

Of course, Alan was only fighting half the battle. The other half, the more difficult half, Edgar had no choice but to take on alone.

That one, he would gladly share responsibility for, if he could.

No. He felt his hands clench involuntarily as he banished the thought from his mind. Alan had fought this particular monster for five years, or one very similar. Edgar would never let that happen again.

The scent of blood still lingered in the air. Edgar tried not to breathe as he opened the door and windows, letting it out into the night air.

Hunger gnawed at his insides, still manageable, but impossible to ignore. Relief was only a few feet away from him, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't open that bottle and drink from it. Even if refusing made him more of a danger to others. When he had no choice, he would do it. He had done it before, he could do it again, but if he could put it off for as long as possible, perhaps they would find the head vampire before he was forced to drink again.

He stepped outside through the open door into the cool night air. It felt good, like plunging into the sea on a hot summer's day. Not that he had ever done that very often, for too many more important things to take care of. Running the shop, making sure Sam didn't get himself into any more trouble with vampires, looking out for Alan too. He could take take care of himself, but Edgar's self appointed position as leader made him responsible.

A lot of good he did at any of those things in the end. The shop was gone, Sam was gone, Alan had almost followed him, and now he, too was fighting the darkness.

He sank down onto the metal step outside his trailer and looked around. He could see everything so clearly, better even than human eyes had in the sunlight. It was almost hard to believe it was dark. He looked upward. The sky was a deep, inky blue, not black as he had used to think, and it was full of stars. More stars than he had ever seen before. Thousands, tens of thousands of tiny points of light shining from light years away, but their tiny flickers of light reached his eyes and allowed him to see through the darkness. The few small clouds hovering overhead stood out against the sky. Had he ever seen clouds at night before? Once it had gone dark, they had only every existed as patches without stars, barely noticeable. Now, he could see them clearly.

He could make out every leaf on every tree. Each piece of gravel on the ground. He would be able to sit out here and read with no difficulty, if he wanted.

A breeze blew, so light that he barely felt it. It rippled through the leaves of the trees just beyond the edge of his property, and he watched them move, listened to the gentle rustling sound as then brushed against one another. He shouldn't be able to hear that from so far away.

He closed his eyes, blocking the distraction of the high definition night scene ahead of him, and concentrated on what he could hear. The wind continued to ripple through, touching the trees, blowing small fragments of gravel, sand and salt across the ground. In the far distance, he could make out the cry of a bird, some other night time predator hunting in the darkness. Something scuttled along the ground underneath his trailer; a rat, most likely. Another of his nocturnal companions.

He heard his own heart thumping slowly in his chest, pumping tainted, half vampire blood through his veins and arteries. Other than the local nightlife, he was completely alone.

He leaned back on the step and took a deep breath, savoring the feeling of air filling his lungs, stretching his chest to full capacity. It felt good. For the first time since this had happened, despite the mild hunger still burrowing a cavity in his stomach, he felt okay; relaxed and calm. He had needed the night time. Needed the feeling of the darkness surrounding him, his natural environment. He had been wrong. It wasn't like sinking into the cool water of the sea on a hot day, it was much, much better.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't feel relaxed about anything right now, but the calmness overrode that particular worry, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply enjoy it.

But the moment passed too quickly, and restlessness returned. He got to his feet and stretched. He didn't want to go back inside, even the idea of being indoors made him feel trapped and claustrophobic. Instead, he walked into the shed he used as his workshop, and brought out some of his tools. The intention was to catch up on some work. His day job was the one that paid the bills, or at least went part way to paying them, but his daytime activity was severely limited for the moment.

He set up his equipment and began to work on a board that he had started the day before this had happened. The material was half shaped, rough and incomplete. He sat on his stool and ran the tips of his fingers over the surface, trying to evoke the memory of working, crafting something. Concentration eluded him. The intensity of everything that he could see and hear distracted him, and when he began to work, it felt wrong. His hands didn't work in the way they usually did. He was applying too much pressure to the board, even when he tried to use a light touch. The result was misshapen, a victim of the unfamiliar strength in his hands and arms.

Frustrated, he gave up and turned his attentions instead to sharpening stakes. It was monotonous work, but it was something that he could do, something that would allow him to switch off his brain for a while and not have to think.

* * *

Zoe was waiting for him outside the Book O'Neer. She was dressed for hunting, in dark colors, black jeans and a long sleeved cotton shirt, with flat heeled boots. Over her shoulder she had slung a bag. She was leaning against the window of the shop on one leg, with the sole of the other foot pressed against the glass. Alan pulled up to the curb and waited for her.

She raised a hand in greeting as she jogged the few steps to the truck, opened the door and got inside. She placed her bad on her knee as she fastened her seat belt. It was a black canvass shoulder bag containing something bulky, a strange shape. Alan eyed it as he began to drive.

"Been shopping?"

Zoe frowned at him in confusion before she followed his gaze downward, glanced down at her lap and realized what he meant. She put a hand inside and pulled out a heavy duty water gun with an air pump to propel the water further. "Edgar gave it to me," she told him. "I thought it might come in handy."

Alan nodded. He pushed the gas further down and propelled the truck around a corner.

"So where are we going?" Zoe asked.

Alan didn't reply. He turned a second corner and brought the truck to a stop in a parking spot right next to the beach. It was a popular area during the day and the night. The daytime brought crowds of holidaymakers strolling hand in hand along the boardwalk or sitting in the sun, but the night attracted an entirely different kind of crowd.

Many of them were locals and many would be visitors, the teenage kids of the couples who had been here during the day, the older brothers and sisters of the children who spent the daytime running in and out of the sea or building sandcastles. They staggered drunkenly from bar to bar, flashing fake IDs at uninterested bouncers who waved them though without even checking. Easy pickings for the vampires. This would be where they hunted, luring unsuspecting victims away from their friends, draining them of blood and ensuring that the body disappeared. This would also be where they recruited, adding to the ranks, arming their side with extra soldiers in the war for dominance over the area.

He didn't know whether one side or both would be active here, but they would find vampires here, he was sure of it.

"Keep that gun hidden," he told Zoe. "Don't let them see it or you'll tip them off. We're here for information, not just to kill. We need the location of the head vampire. There are two of them, and we don't know which one we need."

"Two?" Zoe gasped.

He nodded in confirmation. "But only one of them will cure Edgar. Have you done this before? Patrolling?"

She shook her head. "I've fought vampires before, but only after they attacked me."

It was early still. The evening crowds were only just beginning to gather. He switched off the lights of the truck to avoid drawing attention. "We're in a public place, vampires are pretty cautious, they won't openly attack anyone here, but they will hunt here and lure their victims away. We just need to spot them, follow them, save the victim and then try to get the information out of the vampire before we kill it."

Zoe nodded. "Simple as that, eh?"

In reply, Alan swung open the door and climbed out. He heard Zoe take a deep breath and exhale a loud sigh as she followed his lead.

It was full dark, and had been for hours. The crowd was beginning to thicken and somewhere among them, vampires watched and waited. Alan locked the door to the truck and checked the open back section, making sure it contained nothing of any value. It was empty. He began to walk into the mass of bodies, and Zoe followed.

People never change. Time goes on, fashions alter, the music leaking out of the bars gradually shifts over the decades into something else, but the people remain exactly the same. All preoccupied with the persist of alcohol, drugs, sex, something to make their lives that little bit less unbearable. It had been exactly the same in Santa Carla, older teens and younger adults hanging out on the boardwalk with cans of beer, going down onto the beach away from the bright lights to use illicit substances or steal a few minutes with some girl or guy they don't know.

Alan had hated it then, and time had done nothing to soften his opinion. He had never been like that, Edgar neither. They had no interest in achieving oblivion, rendering themselves defenseless against the monsters. Just the idea of it, of deliberately putting himself in a position where he was out of control, made him remember bloodlust and helplessness.

Two girls, barely out of their teens, staggered past on heels too high to walk. They gripped each other's arms tightly for support, giggling loudly at their own intoxication. Their skirts were short, revealing the maximum amount of leg possible, and their hair and make up, carefully fixed and applied at the beginning of the night were messy and smudged.

As they tottered across the road, they suddenly veered off to one side as though the ground under them had tilted unexpectedly. They managed to stop just before they fell, and continued on their way, laughing all the louder.

Alan sighed to himself. Some people were almost asking to get bitten. If they knew the truth, he wondered whether they would let their guard down so easily.

"How's Edgar?" Zoe asked him suddenly.

Alan turned to look at her, he had almost forgotten she was there. He shrugged and shook his head.

"I called him," she told him. "In the day, so he wouldn't answer. I left him a voicemail. I know he won't reply, but at least he knows I'm thinking of him."

"Yeah," Alan gritted his teeth. "He won't reply."

They reached the edge of the strip of bars that ran opposite the beach and turned around to walk back again.

"There aren't any vampires here," Zoe told him quietly.

Alan nodded. Most of the people surrounding them were still sober, not yet the easy pickings they would be later in the night. "We're too early," he said. "They probably come later, when people are more suggestible. That's what I'd do." He froze, realizing after the words had already left his lips what he had actually said. "I didn't mean that how it sounded," he said.

Zoe shrugged. If he had been talking to Edgar, that comment would have resulted in days of awkwardness. "It's what I'd do too," she told him. "Lets go in one of these places, see if they're hiding out inside."

Without waiting for an answer, she began to march in the direction of the closest bar. The music leaking out into the street had a more rock beat than some of the other places. She smiled at the bouncer as she walked inside, Alan followed reluctantly.

He found himself in a large room, in the center was an oval shaped bar displaying every drink imaginable. The lights were bright around the bar, but the rest of the room was dark. Around the edges of the room were tables where people sat sipping their drinks, occasionally leaning over to yell in someone's ear. The small dance floor was empty; it was was less busy than he had imagined. But it was still early.

Zoe glanced around and shook her head. She turned to him and said something. He watched the movement of her lips, but the words were lost in the music.

"What?"

She leaned closer and cupped a hand around his ear. "I don't think there are any vampires here," she shouted.

He glanced around again. It would be impossible to tell just by looking, but the few people in the bar seemed to be arranged in small groups, all looking fairly comfortable with one another. No obvious strangers trying to tempt someone away, no shady looking characters scanning the crowd for victims. Other than himself, obviously.

He leaned over to Zoe and shouted, "Let's get out of here."

She winced at the volume and pulled away, then shook her head. "They'll turn up eventually, we can just wait. It's more fun than walking up and down outside."

The track switched to something with a faster beat and a few people stood up and wandered to the dance floor. Alan shook his head. Clearly, Zoe had a different idea of what was fun than he did.

"Don't look so wary, you'll draw attention," she added, before she walked up to the bar, leaned over and ordered something.

Alan took a deep breath. He had thought he was in charge. The air smelled of stale beer and sweat. He sat down at a table near the door, giving himself a good view of anyone that walked in or out.

Zoe returned with two bottles of water and handed one to him. The lid was still sealed, no risk of tampering or contamination. He saw Zoe watching him and nodded. She knew what she was doing. He opened the bottle and took a sip.

The door opened and a large group trooped inside and immediately to the bar.

Zoe sat back in her chair and observed them. "Now this is a good way to hunt," she said. "We should tell Edgar about this technique."

Alan didn't reply. Somehow, he didn't think Edgar would agree with her. On the other hand, if it worked, it was worth remembering.

* * *

Edgar didn't have many wooden stakes any more. The vast majority of his collection were made of metal, mostly lightweight alloys; easy to transport, and lower maintenance than the traditional wood. Also, less likely to break, and easier to use. Over the years, as his old wooden stakes had begun to fall apart, he had replaced them with the more modern equivalents. The few remaining ones were rarely used.

He always took at least one with him on a hunt, some kind of superstitious idea about tradition, but for the most part, it stayed in its holster or even in the truck. When you got blood on a metal stake, you could just wipe it off. Wood stained. Although he thought it gave him a certain kind of credibility to show that his weapons had been well used, there came a point where it started to look lazy.

But metal stakes don't need sharpening. A stake doesn't need to be particularly sharp, there is no need to file it down to a knife. Wood needed less sharpening than he gave it, but the activity was calming, it was something that could be done without thinking, a way to focus himself. In a way, it was almost a form of meditation, and it was that that had eventually led him into the surfboard business.

Once every remaining wooden stake in his arsenal had been sharpened and the worst of the staining filed away, he got to his feet. Some time had passed, but he didn't know how much. Several hours, at least.

He briefly considered trying another board, but his body was too unfamiliar now. The activity that had become second nature to him had suddenly become awkward and strange. What had happened had made him stronger as well as the other more obvious effects, and he literally didn't know his own strength.

No wonder Alan had been having trouble readjusting. Losing that strength must have made him feel suddenly so weak, losing the enhanced senses would feel like going almost deaf and blind.

He got to his feet and stretched, reaching his arms above his head and pushing them to one side and then the other, feeling the burn of stretching muscles. He mustn't get used to it. He mustn't allow the advantages he had over his human self to begin to feel normal. But while he was stuck like this, he needed to know what he could do.

It was more than just curiosity. That was part of it, the desire to understand this strange body that was his and not his at the same time, to test its limitations, to know what he was capable of. But it was more than that. It was important to know. If he ever found himself fighting while in this state, he needed an idea of his strength and stamina. He wouldn't use a weapon without having tested it first, this was the same. Part of him didn't want to know, but he needed to.

He started by running. He was in decent shape, he trained every day, and he knew how far and how fast he could run before his muscles should begin to protest and exhaustion should force him to stop. He set out on his usual course; an elliptical route of about two miles that took him in a large loop around the area surrounding his property. He could jog it easily, but tonight he set out at a sprint.

Arms and legs pumping, he could feel his heart beating hard, but not particularly quickly as keen eyes picked out every potential hazard on the dark path. His breathing quickened, but no more than if he had been taking a quick walk. He increased his speed, forcing his legs to propel him faster and faster. He wished he had a way of measuring his speed, he passed his starting point at the trailer and continued, racing at high speed, but barely feeling it.

For a second time, he passed his trailer. This time, he forced himself to slow to a stop. He drew in a deep breath. He felt good. Not tired, not even the good kind of fatigue that comes after the adrenaline rush of exercise. He felt as though he had warmed up, ready for some training. He wanted to do more.

* * *

At the night wore on, the bar became fuller and fuller. Bodies brushed against him as they made their way to and from the bar, the temperature rose to near unbearable levels as more and more people attempted to squeeze their way inside what had seemed like quite a large room when they had arrived.

Alan hated crowds. He always had done. Too many people all together in one place made him uncomfortable, they could be anyone. A small group can be watched carefully, each person scrutinized for any signs that they may not be who they say they are. In a place like this, it was impossible.

The music had grown louder as the bar grew progressively more full, and the dance floor was by now filled with gyrating bodies, people dancing as only those under the influence can. In their own minds, even the most average person was suddenly transformed into a god or goddess of rhythm, imagining that every eye in the place was trained on them, watching appreciatively as they swayed their body in time with the beat of the music, mouth moving along with the words.

All around the place, there were people standing alone or in small groups, watching. There were others approaching what looked like complete strangers, trying out their terrible chat up lines. Half the people in there were looking for someone to leave with. Anyone could be a vampire. Even Alan himself, sitting very still and quiet, having long ago given up on the possibility of conversation could have been mistaken for a predator as his eye moved over the crowd searching for his pray.

Someone touched his hand lightly. It had been resting on the tabletop, and he pulled it away at high speed, jerking his head around to stare at the perpetrator. Zoe smiled apologetically but didn't attempt to say anything over the music. Instead, she nodded to her left, eyes fixed on one of the bar patrons. Alan tried to follow her gaze, but the room was too full to decide who she was indicating, there were dozens of possible vampires there. In any other situation, he would have been able to spot a bloodsucker easily and without any doubt in his mind.

He shook his head, telling her that he didn't see. Zoe got to her feet and made her way to the door, still holding the bag containing her water gun in one hand. He followed her, dodging his way through the crowd and out onto the street.

The rush of fresh air as he exited the bar was one of the most wonderful things he had ever experienced. As the door closed behind him, the music was silenced. The air was cool and smelled of the sea, and he reveled in the sudden solitude. It was, in a strange way, like the feeling of suddenly regaining his humanity, a level of intense discomfort that had been going on so long it had began to feel normal was suddenly stripped away, and the relief of normality was almost overwhelming. It took a moment to recover and remember what it was that they were actually doing. He looked around and spotted Zoe waiting for him a few paces ahead.

He jogged the few steps to catch up and she pointed to a couple walking slowly away down the street. The girl was clearly drunk or high or something. She leaned on the man for support as he walked slowly but purposefully, leading her into the maze of the old town streets. He moved with complete confidence, no sign of intoxication at all. Alan watched him critically, there was something else about the way he moved, a kind of fluidity to his motion. He didn't walk like a human.

Alan's eyes narrowed as he watched them leave, not letting them get away, but allowing a little distance to grow between them. This wasn't a simple stake the vampire, save the victim job. He needed information, and he could get it by tailing his pray, so much the better. As he watched, he slipped his hand underneath the side of his jacket and ran his fingertips over the concealed stakes in his belt holster, checking they were still there. He pulled the UV flashlight from the deep side pocket, and glanced at Zoe. The Supersoaker was already in her hand, the empty bag slung over her shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, and Alan began to follow. Zoe walked at his side, the water gun in her hand, but held slightly behind her to make it less obvious. Alan tried to match his pace to the vampire's, not letting him get too far ahead, not allowing the gap between them to close. Zoe's expression was set into grim determination.

The streets in this older part of town were maze-like; short, narrow streets full of corners, odd junctions and dead ends, it would be easy to get lost there, and easy to lose someone you were following.

Alan kept as far back as he dared. The vampire would know they were there. If he couldn't hear their footsteps or the beating of their hearts, the smell of their blood would reveal their presence. For now, he might assume they were two people from the bar, walking home in the same direction. But with every step in the same direction, they gave themselves away a little more. Wherever he was leading them, it was unlikely to be where his pack hid from the sun.

When the vampire finally turned a corner into a dead end alley, Alan jogged ahead, no longer worrying about whether they had been noticed, just wanting to save the girl before the vampire could sink his fangs into her throat. He rounded the corner at a sprint with Zoe close behind him. The girl was on the ground.

She was kneeling on the concrete, leaning forward with her hands touching the ground as though she had fallen or been pushed. It was too dark for human eyes to make out any detail, but her throat looked unmarked. She was breathing heavily, as though she had been running.

The vampire was waiting for them. He stood near the girl, facing the entrance to the alley. Alan's stake was already in his hand, he raised it and pointed it at the monster. It smiled, displaying sharp fangs. Suddenly, with no warning, the vampire leaped into the air and propelled himself forward, flying at high speed toward Alan and Zoe. Zoe pointed her water gun and got a shot off, but missed. Alan stood his ground, stake at the ready, his finger touched the switch of his flashlight. Before he could turn it on, the vampire had reached him. He swung his stake, ducking his head to avoid the impact. He missed, but so did the vampire. He felt the swift movement of air as the monster passed him and disappeared into the night.

He switched on the UV flashlight and swung it around, searching for the vampire, but it had disappeared from sight. Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't hiding somewhere, waiting, watching.

"Think he gave up without a fight?" Zoe asked, sounding unconvinced.

Alan shook his head. "I doubt it."

He swung the flashlight once more in every direction, and then turned to look at Zoe. She was crouching by the girl, who was still kneeling on the ground, trying to help her to her feet. The girl was being less than co-operative.

"Come on, you're safe now," she said, trying to coax the girl into a more upright position.

Alan resisted the urge to assist, Zoe was probably more suited than him to reassuring a victim after a failed attack. When it came to vampire slaying, he could handle the hunt and he relished the battle, the was the other things that he had trouble with, things like this. Edgar was equally useless, it was a Frog family trait, keeping the touchy-feely to a minimum. When absolutely necessary, they had used to leave it to Sam.

He kept his flashlight switched on, shining it in all directions, covering Zoe in case the vampire returned. The beam of UV light it produced made the rest of the alley appear darker still in contrast. He kept moving, hoping that if the vampire returned for his meal, he would be caught in the beam. He half hoped it would return. This wasn't supposed to be a rescue mission, they were here for information, and that was something that the girl wouldn't have. Behind him, he could still hear Zoe trying to coax her to move.

Suddenly, Zoe let out a shocked gasp. It was followed by a scrabbling noise as she quickly backed away, getting to her feet as she did. Alan spun around immediately, shining his light, his other hand tightening around his stake, expecting to find that the vampire had flown in from behind him. He froze in shock when he instead found the girl, still half sitting on the ground, her eyes glowing softly in the darkness with the beginnings of hunger.

Zoe got to her feet and stood uncertainly, watching her. The girl stared back, squinting against the glow of the light in Alan's hand. Her eyes were confused and afraid, tears were beginning to run down her cheeks. She shook her head. "What's going on?" she asked.

Zoe glanced at Alan briefly, before she took a small step forward. "It's okay," she said. "We're going to help you. Right, Alan?"

Alan didn't move. He stood frozen in place, staring at the girl in horror. This really wasn't going according to plan.

She looked back at him, still confused and frightened, probably knowing that something terrible had happened to her, but not understanding what. Not yet. Soon, the hunger would grow, and then she would begin to understand.

"He must have turned her in the club," Zoe guessed. She turned back to the girl. "Did he give you anything to drink? Or maybe he could have put something in a drink you already had?"

The girl clambered to her feet. "Tell me what's going on!" she said. Her voice was louder this time, more assertive, but also more afraid. She looked from Zoe to Alan and back again, still squinting in the artificial sunlight.

Alan turned away. There was nothing he could do. It was too late, the damage was done. "It doesn't matter how he did it," he said to Zoe. "It's done."

Soon, the girl would succumb to the bloodlust already growing inside her. She would probably fight it, but eventually she would kill. He couldn't help her. He couldn't even help Edgar, as much as he wanted to. This was just some random girl, one of possibly hundreds in the same position. He couldn't help them all. It wasn't possible. His fingers tightened around the stake in his hand. This kindest thing would be to end it now, while she was still more or less herself, before she became a monster.

As though she had somehow read the thoughts running through his head in the clutch of his hand on the stake, Zoe was staring at him out of the corner of her eye. She focused most of her attention on the new half vampire in front of them, but somehow, she was watching him warily. Or maybe it was his guilty conscience.

He looked at the girl, and at his stake, and he couldn't do it. It wouldn't be right. Once, he wouldn't have hesitated, but that was before he had been on the other side. Now, his grip loosened and the hand holding the stake dropped to his side.

Satisfied, Zoe's full attention returned to the girl – the vampire – in front of them. But if he couldn't kill her, what could he do with her? She couldn't be allowed to go free, she would make a kill quickly and join one side or the other in the war, maybe even going on to turn more innocents. But he couldn't take her anywhere to hide; couldn't foist the responsibility onto Edgar, not with what he was already dealing with, but couldn't take care of her himself as she couldn't be trusted in the presence of a human.

He didn't even know if she would want to fight what she was. She wouldn't understand what a vampire truly was. When she felt the first pangs of hunger, she might choose to feed rather than suffer the constant need. She wouldn't understand what she was giving up. Not like he had; like Edgar did.

The glow in the girl's eyes had gone now, and she looked human; a frightened girl who had just seen some of the horror in the world.

"What's your name?" Zoe asked her.

The half vampire shook her head, looking quickly from Zoe to Alan, and then she folded her arms tightly across her chest and drew herself up to her full height, trying to look authoritative and instead coming across like a little girl demanding something from her parents. "Tell me what's happening," she said. "Who are you, who was that man, and how did I end up here?"

"We should move out," Alan said, ignoring her questions, "then work out what we're going to do with Draculina here."

"What. Is. Happening?" The girl spoke slowly and clearly, loud enough that no one could miss the question. "I'm not going anywhere until you answer me."

Zoe glanced at Alan. She nervously tucked a nonexistent strand of dark hair behind her ear, and them turned to face her. "The thing is, something's happened to you, and I don't know if you're going to believe us if we tell you, so it'd be better if you just..."

"You're a vampire," Alan interrupted. It came out more harshly than he intended and somehow seemed to hang in the air, reverberating around the silence that it had created.

Zoe turned to stare at him.

"A half vampire," Alan corrected. "The guy you were with probably spiked your drink with blood, and if you don't want to turn all the way, you need to listen to us."

The girl stared at him in shock for a second, but the expression quickly changed into terror. Not at what had happened to her, but of him. She didn't believe him. Of course she didn't believe him. Suddenly, with no warning, she bolted, escaping Zoe's hand on her shoulder and speeding past Alan and away into the pitch dark streets of San Cazador.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Zoe was staring at him, wide eyed and incredulous. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could make a sound she had also begun to run away, following the girl.

"Don't," he told her. "Vampires are fast; you'll never catch her."

"_I_ can catch her," Zoe told him, and disappeared into the night.

Suddenly finding himself alone in a badly lit area of town at night, Alan began to feel very exposed. He waited for several minutes, expecting Zoe to return empty handed. Even a brand new half vampire could outrun an Olympic sprinter if they had reason to, and he had certainly given her reason.

He shook his head, frustrated with himself. Of course the girl was going to run from the crazy guy telling her she was a vampire. And now he had set another vampire loose on the city. But a part of him was relieved that she was no longer his responsibility. There would have been no way to help her short of killing the head vampire, and no way to know whether she and Edgar shared a head vampire or not. They could have killed him, freed Edgar and found that she was still a vampire. Then what?

Things had been so much easier when the world was black and white. Vampires were the enemy, half vampires included. You find one, you kill it.

Things would never be that simple again.

After five minutes, he began to worry. Zoe should have been back by now, unless something had happened to her. Cold dread began to fill his chest and expand outward through his veins and arteries. If something happened to Zoe, Edgar would never forgive him. If Edgar found out now, while he was still a half vampire, there was no way to predict what he would do.

Tucking the UV light under his arm, he fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone as he began to hurry in the direction she had gone. He had only added her number that evening, an afterthought, just in case. He scrolled through the phone book as he ran, paying very little attention to the streets around him. Finally finding her name, he called the number and listened to the ring at the other end of the line.

Somewhere nearby, he heard a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. The theme tune to some show he had watched as a kid. He lowered his phone from his ear and listened carefully, then began to run in the direction of the sound.

The street lighting was better here, and he flicked off the UV light as he ran, phone almost forgotten, still clasped in his fist, following the sound of the ringtone. He rounded a final corner and came to a complete stop, staring in confusion at an untidy pile of clothes pushed up against the wall of a building as though that would make them unnoticeable.

Hesitantly, not sure what to do, he reached out and nudged the pile with his fingertips. Through the fabric, he could feel the phone vibrating. He canceled his call, and the ringing stopped. Next to the clothes was the water gun, and Zoe's boots.

Alan turned around, peering through the yellowy streetlighting into the darkness beyond, looking for any clue as to what had happened. There was none. The street was empty and silent. It was as though Zoe had simply vanished into the air, leaving behind everything that she had worn or carried.

He turned back to the clothes and stared for a moment. If anything had happened to Zoe, she wouldn't have had the time or a reason to do this, which meant that she was probably okay, or at least that when she had done this, she had been okay. It would help if he knew exactly what she was. He should have asked, but she had known he didn't know and she hadn't volunteered the information. It was possible that this was completely normal for her. Likely, even.

He decided to wait where he was for her to return. Whatever she was doing, and wherever she had gone, she would eventually need to come back for her stuff.

Something hit him. It happened so quickly that it wasn't until after it had happened that he registered the sight of something moving quickly toward him and the feeling of wind on his face. It hit him in the chest, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

Alan staggered backwards until he hit the wall. The UV light in his hand dropped to the ground, hit the concrete and broke open, spilling the batteries onto the ground. He bit back a curse and looked around for whatever had hit him, but he appeared to be completely alone.

He dropped to his hands and knees and began to pick up the stray batteries. As he did, the same thing happened again. This time, the something that hit him felt like a fist, an incredibly strong fist that struck him on his jaw. He was knocked backwards again, this time hitting his head hard against the brick wall. For a moment, the world disappeared, replaced by a flash of white light accompanied a burst of intense pain. He heard laughter.

His head pounded, each beat of his heart bringing a fresh burst of agony. Alan forced open his eyes to see the blurry, watery image of a man standing over him. He struggled to focus his vision. The man took a step forward and grinned. His teeth were sharp fangs. Trying to ignore the pain, Alan struggled and failed to get to his feet. The UV light was still in pieces, so he reached for Zoe's water gun, pumped the handle and squeezed the trigger.

A plume of water shot from the barrel, but the vampire dodged easily. He laughed again and shook his head. "Why were you following us?" he asked.

Alan fired again. Again, the vampire dodged.

"Whatever the reason," he said, "it was a mistake." He stared down threateningly at Alan. "I'm just trying to decide, do I kill you, or do I turn you? I suppose a hunter would be a useful addition to the pack in times like this, but on the other hand," he grinned again, baring his fangs. "I'm hungry."

Alan fired for a third time, this time moving the gun quickly from side to side, soaking as large an area as he could. The vampire dodged again, but misjudged and the stream of water cut across his chest. He hissed in pain as it soaked through his clothing and touched his skin. Alan pumped the gun again and fired. Pain slowed the vampire's movements and this time he hit him directly. The vampire staggered backwards, eyes searching from left to right as though looking for backup.

Alan ignored the pain in his head and forced himself unsteadily to his feet. His spare hand went to his holster, grabbing a stake. He fired again. The vampire took to the air and fled. He disappeared almost instantly into the night sky. Alan looked down at the gun, it was almost empty. The pain in his head grew worse, and the ground underneath him seemed to tilt. He sank back to the ground deliberately, before he fell, and allowed his eyes to slip closed. He knew he was leaving himself vulnerable, but by now it was out of his hands.

Unconsciousness claimed him, and it felt good to rest.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - Sorry! So sorry to leave it so long between chapters! I'm planning on getting back on track now, I promise!

* * *

There was... something. Something large, covered with thick, coarse fur. He was aware of it only on the periphery of his senses; the touch of warm fur against his arm, the snuffling sound of an interested nose. He forced open his eyes, but he pain in his head exploded in intensity and what little he could make out in the darkness was blurred and watery. The thing, whatever it was, gave out a kind of whimpering sound, and then it was gone, shifted from his awareness.

He was cold, laying on the ground. Strange, it had been a warm night.

Someone was shaking him gently, a hand on his arm nudged him back and forth and a voice called his name. Consciousness approached slowly at first, his body fighting it off, demanding more time to rest and recover from whatever had happened to him.

Everything hurt. The focus of the pain was at the back of his head, an intense flash of agony in time with every beat of his heart, accompanied by a dull ache that radiated outward from that spot to touch every nerve in his body. He felt nauseous, and his mouth was filled with the bitter taste of vomit.

The shaking on his arm increased in intensity, the voice grew more urgent, and he began to fight off the need to sleep. He forced open his eyes to see Zoe staring down at him, her face full of concern. She was wearing clothes, and for some reason that struck him as odd, he didn't know why.

Trying to think made him want to throw up.

"What happened?" she asked.

Alan's hands groped the ground, trying to work out which way was up. He had closed his eyes again. He didn't remember doing it, but it felt like a good idea so he left them like that.

"Alan, what happened?"

He wanted to answer, but he knew that trying to articulate the events of the evening would only make him feel worse, he wanted to shake his head, but every tiny movement was a lightning bolt straight to his brain. He drew in a shallow breath and exhaled slowly. "Later," he managed to say.

Zoe didn't say anything else. He opened his eyes again to make sure she was still there. The image was damaged, out of focus, it barely made sense. He tried to fix his eyes on her face, and for a moment succeeded, but like everything else, it hurt. He gave up and closed them again.

"Don't you dare go to sleep, Alan Frog. If anything happens to you, your brother will never forgive me."

Sleep sounded like an excellent idea.

Hands gripped him under his arms and began dragging him to his feet. She was strong. Unnaturally strong. He found himself on his feet, trying and failing not to lean on her for support as she led him through the streets back to where they had parked.

"What _are_ you?" he wondered out loud.

In the silence that greeted his question, he wondered whether he had spoken at all, or whether he was asleep and had dreamed it.

"I'm a werewolf," she replied after a moment. Her hand squeezed his arm a little tighter. "Don't tell Edgar."

* * *

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Dawn was approaching. Edgar could feel it coming. To human eyes the lightning of the sky on the horizon would have been imperceptible, but Edgar could detect it. Soon, the first rays of sunlight would creep through and begin to illuminate the world. They would drive into hiding all the monsters and the creatures of darkness, forcing them to take shelter from its poisonous, live-giving presence.

Alan should have been here by now. He had promised to be back before dawn, and dawn was fast approaching.

Edgar sat on the step of his trailer, gazing into the distance. The clarity of his vision no longer amazed him, after a night of testing his limitations, it was beginning to feel normal, worryingly so. What concerned him was what it failed to show him. Every time he looked up and peered into what was no longer impenetrable darkness, he expected to see some sign of is brother's approach, and each time he was disappointed.

Hunger still rumbled occasionally through his stomach, just a little shudder to remind him of its presence, but the slowly rising level of light appeared to suppress the need, and as the sky grew increasingly blue and the darkness began to leak away, the discomfort of hunger was replaced by the exhaustion of daytime.

Dawn had used to be his favorite time of day. No matter how hard the battle during the night, no matter the danger and the horror, the rising of the sun would drive it away. The sun meant safety, in the same way that the protective ring around his trailer meant safety. He could relax, let down his guard a little. He was safe. Now, the light meant something very different. Now, he was the monster hiding in the darkness. The light spoke to something primal, a race memory buried deep inside his vampire half. _Run, take cover, hide!_

Exhaustion ambushed him unexpectedly, not creeping up on him slowly, but all at once, a sudden wave of fatigue that washed over him with no warning. He felt his eyes close, he slumped forward as his muscles relaxed, ready to rest. He fought it, forcing open his eyes and straightening his back. If he fell into that unnatural mockery of sleep now, unless he was disturbed, he would remain unconscious until the sun set once again.

A hell of a sunburn that would give him.

One corner of his lips twitched in a mixture of amusement and discomfort at the thought.

He squinted into the distance. The increasing light stung his eyes and he couldn't see as well as he had in full darkness. The light level was increasing by the minute. There was still no sign of Alan approaching. Surely, if he couldn't get back, he would have called. He reached into his pocket, feeling for the familiar shape of his cellphone. It wasn't there.

It was inside, he had left there after listening to Zoe's message. He cursed to himself and began to stand up. Every movement was difficult, muscles refused to work in the way he expected, they protested violently against movement after he should have succumbed to the sunlight. The first rays were by now beginning to penetrate into the world, long shadows were punctuated by patches of brightness on the ground. Edgar's head began to hurt.

Slowly, he made his was inside, dragging his heavy, unresponsive body across the short distance between his door and the part of his trailer he thought of as his bedroom. Having made it across the room, he allowed himself to sit down on the thin mattress. He reached for the phone as his eyes began to close against his will. He fought to keep them open for long enough to see that no one had called, and then they closed.

His mind screamed at his body, telling it not to lay down, but his body sleepily replied with a wave of exhaustion. He slumped uncomfortably, legs still hanging from the edge of the bed, and lost consciousness as the daylight's effect on the vampire won.

He was a creature of the darkness, not supposed to see the sun. As sleep claimed him, his last thought was a wish for the comfort of the night.

* * *

When Alan woke, the sun was high in the sky, shining in through the small gap in the curtains. He was in an unfamiliar bed. The mattress was soft and luxurious, as were the two pillows supporting his aching head. He was covered by a blanket, and, a quick glance verified, still fully dressed. All but his boots, they had been taken off.

This was Zoe's place. He remembered asking her. He had a vague recollection of her waking him, checking that he was still alive and coherent, seemingly every few seconds, but more likely every hour.

He reached up and gingerly ran the tips of his fingers over the back of his head. It stung. The skin felt swollen and sensitive, his head still ached fiercely, but he didn't appear to have broken the skin. That fact had probably saved his life. A wounded vampire smelling blood would become lost in bloodlust, needing to feed to heal itself. He had wounded the vampire last night, and the vampire had fled.

It had probably chosen another victim not long after.

Alan closed his eyes again, but now he was awake, it was no longer possible to ignore the pounding in his head and sink back into blissful unconsciousness. He hadn't felt this bad since he'd become human again.

As that thought hit him, every muscle became instantly rigid as he paused half way to getting out of the bed. He forced his mind back to the night before, trying to remember the details of the fight. Everything was frustratingly blurry. He remembered the vampire musing over whether to kill him or turn him.

He definitely wasn't dead.

He remembered Zoe's clothes and gun abandoned on the sidewalk. He remembered being ambushed and firing holy water at the vampire. He remembered a blow to the head. Everything else was just a blur. He had lost consciousness, the vampire could have come back, it may never have left. He just didn't know. There was a hole in his memory.

A tightness in his chest reminded him to breathe and he sucked in a lungful of air.

If it had happened, he could cope. He had done it before, he could do it again. He knew how to survive like that, knew that it was possible indefinitely, if you were willing. But the idea of going back to that existence, even for a short while, filled him with a deep sense of despair.

He reached for his head again and touched the wound, wincing at the pain. If he had been turned, he would have healed more than that. The light pouring in through the gap in the curtains was bright, but not painfully so. The tiredness wasn't that familiar sapping of his energy by the daylight, it felt normal. Human.

He sighed a sigh of intense relief. The throbbing in the bump on his head felt suddenly welcome. He kicked off the covers and swung his legs around the side of his bed.

Zoe had removed his boots, but not his socks. He didn't remember coming here, being led into her bedroom, coaxed into her bed. It felt like an intrusion. He wasn't supposed to be here. He forced himself to his feet and padded across the carpeted floor, pausing at her dressing table to glance in the mirror, just to make sure. His reflection was complete.

Zoe lived, apparently, in a small apartment somewhere in the center of San Cazador. From outside, he could hear the sound of traffic and people. He could smell cooking in the air. It reminded him, in a way, of Santa Carla, the boardwalk with its noise and music and people.

The door had been left ajar. He pushed it open and found himself in the main room. The room was slightly bigger than the whole of Edgar's trailer, and housed her sitting room and kitchen. Zoe was sitting on the couch, watching TV with the volume barely audible. When he walked through, she turned to look at him, gave him a smile and switched off the TV.

"How's the patient today?" she asked in a tone that was far too chirpy for the headache to handle.

He took several more steps into the room. "What time is it?"

"Just after twelve." She glanced at her watch. "Quarter after. You want to tell me what happened last night?"

Not really. He walked over to the couch and sat down at the opposite side to her. "The vampire came back, caught me by surprise. I got lucky."

Zoe gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah, really lucky. Well, you were right. I couldn't catch the girl. I think she must've flown away." She uncurled herself and got to her feet. "Want breakfast?"

Alan thought about it for a moment and his stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of food. He shook his head, and it made him dizzy. "So we've got no leads."

Zoe winced apologetically. "Square one," she confirmed.

"I have to go."

He got to his feet, his body protested violently. Zoe watched him, and for a moment he thought she was going to argue, then she nodded, as though she had suddenly realized she didn't want him there. "I'll take you home, you'll have to give me directions," she told him. "You can't drive, you've got a concussion."

Alan began to protest, but another wave of dizziness washed over him and he felt himself sway where he stood. He gritted his teeth, and nodded.

The previous night, he had promised Edgar he would be back before the sunrise, hoping to bring him good news. Edgar had presumably waited for him, and he had never returned. He turned back to Zoe, who was already in her shoes and fishing in her purse for his keys. "Did you tell Edgar?"

Zoe waited a half second too long before answering, then she shook her head. "I didn't think I should. I didn't want to worry him."

Alan closed his eyes. She would have been right, if he hadn't promised to be back before dawn. As it was, Edgar would have been waiting for him, and he hadn't shown.

"I..." Zoe said. Alan opened his eyes to see Zoe fidgeting with the key to the truck. She frowned uncertainly. "I'm thinking I should have called him?"

Alan shook his head. "He probably wouldn't have answered anyway."

She nodded, turned around and opened the door. "Lets get you home," she said.

Outside the door he found himself at the top of a flight of stairs, no elevator in sight. If he had climbed them himself the previous night, he had no memory of it. He glanced sideways at the girl out of the corner of his eye and wondered how strong she was.

"Are you sure you're okay to be home alone?" Zoe asked.

Alan blinked and suddenly, she had moved several feet along the corridor and begun to descend the stairs. His head throbbed with rhythmic bursts of a dull, sickening pain. He ignored it and nodded, following her.

"Because you totally spaced out there for a minute."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I just need to sleep it off."

Zoe shrugged and nodded, then continued her path down the stairs. "Just wait til you're in bed to sleep," she suggested, "I don't think you'll find it too comfy out here."

Alan wasn't actually tired. He had had more than enough sleep to keep him going through the day and most of the following night, but the lingering headache left him feeling drained. He sat in the passenger side of the truck, leaning his aching head against the cool glass of the window, giving Zoe directions to his home. His position, slouched against the side of the door reminded him of how Edgar had sat just a few nights ago, after drinking blood for the first time.

He tried to sit up straight, but he didn't have the energy, and the glass against his skin felt good.

"Here?" Zoe asked.

Alan repositioned his head slightly to look through the window, he found himself looking at his street, and nodded, unclipping his seat belt as he did.

Zoe pulled up to the curb, turned off the engine and handed over the keys. "I'll walk back," she said.

Alan shrugged, feigning lack of interest to cover his relief that he wouldn't have to go and pick up the truck later, and probably face a barrage of criticism for attempting to drive.

He climbed out, closed the door and locked it, then turned to thank Zoe for the lift, but she was already half way down the street. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, then opened his door, went inside, lay down on the bed and immediately fell into a deep, healing sleep.

When he awoke, he felt better. Not completely well, but enough that he could think straight again. The pain in his head had reduced to a dull ache, the kind that could be banished by a couple of Tylenol and something to eat.

He had food. The pills would have to wait.

Gingerly, he pushed his fore and middle fingers into the swollen bump on the back of his head, it still hurt, but not as badly as it had that morning.

A glance at his watch at he wandered into the kitchen told him that it was just after three in the afternoon. His kitchen was badly stocked. It barely qualified as a kitchen, and until recently, it had simply been an area of his home that contained a sink.

During his first few months as a half vampire, he had eaten food. Determined to act as human as he could, he had stuck steadfastly to the idea of three meals a day, drinking his foul animal blood as an accompaniment to each garlic-free dish, but as months passed and he gradually realized that humanity was slipping through his fingers, he had stopped. Not all at once, it had been a gradual thing. Putting off a meal because he had something more important to do, then forgetting altogether, skipping whole nights and promising himself he would do it tomorrow. In the end, he had decided to stop. He never enjoyed the food he was forcing himself to swallow. It was just one more chore making his life that little but more difficult.

So, the kitchen had fallen to disuse, the sink used to store the occasional carcass too badly mutilated to be a useful taxidermy subject, the refrigerator used to store bottled blood. Eating was a habit he was still trying to reacquire. His body informed him when he needed to eat, less violently than his half vampire body had reminded him of the need to feed, but no less convincingly. The problem was in having food available.

He opened the cupboard door and peered inside, pulled out a half used loaf of sliced bread and took out two slices. A quick search of the rest of the kitchen revealed nothing suitable to put in a sandwich, so he sat down and chewed on the two slices of dry, slightly stale bread and made a mental note to go shopping.

It was funny, in a way. The way he lived now, the bare shelves and empty refrigerator, the whole place falling into disrepair around him, reminded him of his childhood, before he and Edgar had been old enough to fend for themselves, scavenging around the kitchen for food that was still edible, hoping that their parents had regained consciousness for long enough to buy something that week.

His stomach appeased for the moment, Alan changed out of his soiled clothes from the previous night, and went out.

He left Edgar's truck where it was, parked outside the door, and went on foot to the nearest shopping street, a long way from San Cazador's busy tourist areas and the chaos of the center of town, this place was home to several smaller, local shops. He walked past the small convenience store and the DVD rental place next door, and walked into the butcher's shop.

The air inside was cooled by an ancient looking air conditioning unit above the door, that rattled and spluttered loudly as it blew out chilled air into the shop, keeping the produce from spoiling. The sudden coolness was a relief from the stifling heat of the afternoon sun, and his headache thanked him by easing off a little.

Behind the counter stood a man in his late fifties. His face was round, with a substantial double chin. What little hair he had left clung around the edges of his head, fighting a losing battle against the expanding bald patch. His head was covered by a transparent plastic cap. As Alan walked inside, he looked up and smiled in a friendly manner. The front of his apron was stained with blood, some of it still fresh and shining as it reflected the light shining in through the window. In front of him, lay a display of meat, cut up into different shapes and sizes and laid out for public inspection. Alan cast an eye over it, but what he had come for wasn't kept on display.

He looked up and met the man's gaze. Recognition flickered across his face and his smile faltered. "Come back for more?" he asked.

Alan nodded and pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

The man sighed deeply and disappeared into the back, reappearing a moment later with a large bottle filled with thick, red liquid.

"Same price as before?" Alan asked.

The butcher shrugged and nodded in agreement. Alan pulled a handful of notes from his wallet and placed them on the counter. The butcher put down the bottle next to them, picked them up and counted quickly.

Clutching the bottle around the thin neck, Alan turned to leave.

"I don't know what you're doing," the butcher said.

Alan turned back around to look at him.

"And I don't want to know. But there are things out there, unnatural things that you don't want to get involved with. I can see you're not one of them, but if you're helping them..." he paused, sighed and shook his head. "You just watch yourself, okay? They're dangerous, and if you're helping one of them, one day this stuff isn't going to be enough and it'll go for your throat."

Alan hesitated, staring at them man, holding the bottle tightly, then he nodded. "I know what I'm doing," he promised, then he turned and walked outside, back into the daytime heat.


	10. Chapter 10

Edgar woke to the knowledge that he wasn't alone in his trailer. He was laying on his bed, head resting on the pillow, covered by a thin sheet. That was odd, because he remembered not having the energy to get himself onto the bed before he lost consciousness under the growing glare of the sun. Of course, as a half vampire, it was entirely possible that he has floated upward in his sleep, then landed in a different position. The sheet... well, he didn't know. There had to be some kind of explanation.

He kept his eyes closed and his body very still. The sun had almost completely set, and somehow the little light left behing at the end of the day was less draining to him that the equivalent in the morning. Almost as though by the time the evening came around, it's strength had been used up, and it needed the hours of darkness to recharge its potency.

At the other side of the room, he could hear a heartbeat. The quiet sound of relaxed breathing accompanied it. The scent of blood, muted by the layer of skin separating it from the outside world floated tantalizingly on the air, mingling with the fresh perfume of the night air filling the trailer through an open window.

Edgar breathed in slowly and deeply, trying not to savor the blood's tempting scent at he tried to identify its owner. He couldn't do it. Not enough experience. The fact that it was blood overrode his ability to identify the vintage.

"I know you're awake," Alan said.

Edgar relaxed, only realizing as he did just how tense he had been. Falling asleep with the door wide open – leaving himself vulnerable to anyone who happened to drop by – had been a stupid move. It wasn't just the creatures of the night he needed to worry about anymore. If any of his fellow hunters learned what had happened to him, they wouldn't hesitate to drive a stake through his heart. He relaxed too, because Alan was safe. When he hadn't come back the night before, Edgar had feared the worst. But his brother sounded fine. His heartbeat was strong and steady.

Which posed the question, why hadn't he come back?

The vampire inside him, aroused by the scent of fresh blood, the potential victim waiting by its bedside, grabbed hold of the question tightly, pulling on his irritation at being left behind, at the fact that he had been left to worry with not so much as a phone call to tell him that Alan was still alive.

"Edgar, when a vampire is asleep they're literally dead to the world," Alan said. "Halfies too. They lay completely still, they barely even breathe. I know you're awake."

Goddamn know-it-all brother. Edgar took a deep breath to calm the monster, struggling to make the action a cleansing one rather than a way to drink in the blood scent. He could still feel the vampire, just underneath the surface, but making no further moves to gain freedom.

It was strange how sometimes he thought of the vampire as an entity separate to himself, a parasite that needed to be purged, yet at other times it felt like a part of him. That kind of thinking was dangerous.

He opened his eyes.

It was dark. Not to him, of course, but Alan had left the lights off and was sitting in the near dark with a monster. A foolish move. Edgar's supernaturally enhanced vision could see his brother much better than Alan could see him, and he was relieved to find that he had at least armed himself with a stake.

Edgar sat up, and reached for the light switch. He braced himself, and slammed his eyes closed against the glare as the bulb burst to life. When he opened them again, he turned them on Alan. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked.

Alan was sitting on the single chair at the kitchen table, which he had angled to allow himself a view of both the door and Edgar on his bed. A stake lay on his lap with the fingers of his right hand curled around the top. He looked completely relaxed. Only the hint of tension around his eyes told Edgar that that wasn't the case. Most likely no one else would have noticed that. When they were kids, back in Santa Carla, Sam had had used to joke that they were telepaths, able to read each other's minds. He had been wrong, they simply knew each other well enough that they didn't always need to speak.

No so right now, however. Edgar wanted a response to his question.

Alan reached into his bag; a black rucksack laying on the ground by his feet, which Edgar had not noticed until now. From it, he pulled a large plastic bottle filled with red liquid. He placed it on the table. He didn't say anything, just pushed it into the center of the table, and then turned to look at Edgar.

Edgar kept his eyes on his brother, not daring to glance at the bottle. Hunger continued to gnaw gently at the inside of his stomach, Edgar continued to ignore it.

"Where, Alan?" he asked again when no answer was forthcoming. "You were supposed to report back last night. Did something happen?" Panic flittered across his chest. "Zoe..?"

"She's fine," Alan promised. "We found a vampire in the club, tailed it as it walked a victim out. But the victim had already been turned, then the vampire attacked when I was off guard. I fought it off, but it knocked me unconscious. When I came around, it was noon."

Edgar frowned. "You found a vampire 'in the club'? What club?"

"Some place by the beach." Alan shrugged. "Zoe's idea. Not a bad one, as it turned out, it's the obvious place for them to hunt."

"And where was Zoe while you were getting the shit kicked out of you by a vampire?" Edgar asked.

Alan frowned in irritation. "She was chasing down the victim. The halfie. She ran away, we thought maybe she shouldn't be let loose in the city."

Edgar fought the urge to lay down again and close his eyes, shut out the world and the incompetents that inhabited it. "She _chased_ a half vampire?" he asked slowly. He shook his head. This was why he needed to be there. Zoe didn't have the hunting experience, she could have gotten herself killed. Or worse. Not to mention, when it came to chasing vampires, he had an advantage now. "You let her go running off into the night after a vampire? Alone?"

"I didn't exactly "let" her, Edgar," Alan protested. His brother's heart rate increased slightly and irritation showed in his expression.

Edgar got to his feet and began to pace. He could feel anger stirring inside himself too, and he took a slow breath, making a conscious effort to push down the vampire before it could begin to play with the dangerous emotions and use them to its own advantage. He didn't reply, trying instead to block out everything; the room, the blood on the table, the blood in Alan's veins. He concentrated instead on the sound of his feet on the ground, allowing his eyes to close as he tread the familiar floor of his trailer.

It was turning into a habit, an automatic reaction to any strong emotion, any stray thought that the monster inside him might be able to use.

When he opened his eyes, it was to Alan staring at him in concern. His brother had gotten to his feet and taken a step forward, as though to stop him. If that had been his intention, he had thought better of it. The understanding in his expression bothered Edgar.

"You need me out there," Edgar said. "You need backup you can rely on. Someone with experience." He remembered their conversation the previous night, Alan's argument had made perfect sense at the time, and it still did. But he could work on control. He could work on learning what he could and couldn't do, and he could re-learn how to hunt. Even like this, he could still be useful. Edgar took a step forward and looked at Alan with as much conviction as he could muster. "You need me," he repeated.

Alan sat back down at the kitchen table, shaking his head. He sighed. One hand reached forward to touch the screw on cap of the blood-filled bottle sitting there. He pushed the bottle, allowing it to rock slowly back and forth underneath two fingertips. He watched as it moved, not looking at Edgar. Edgar, too, found himself distracted by the motion of the liquid held inside the plastic container.

"No," said Alan, finally. He let go of the bottle and turned toward Edgar. His hand twitched a little closer to the stake that he had left on the tabletop. "I mean, I do need you, but not to hunt. Edgar, we can't hunt. Not at the moment, not like we have been, It doesn't work."

"Doesn't..?"

"It doesn't work," Alan repeated firmly. His eyes met Edgar's as he spoke. "They're recruiting for a war. Maybe making dozens of new vampires every night. Even if we kill one every night, even if we kill two of three, we aren't going to make a dent in the population. And it's not going to bring us any closer to the head vampires and a cure for you. Not only that, but we sent them a message tonight." He shook his head, "We didn't mean to, but we sent a warning. They know we're coming for them. They're going to be ready."

Edgar closed his eyes for a moment and tried once again to force a calm against the fear and frustration brewing inside him. He couldn't tell whether they were coming from him, or from the vampire, or whether it was a mixture of the two. It didn't matter any more. It was strong, and the things it was saying to him made sense. He didn't even know whether he wanted to shut it down.

"All the more reason to strike now," he said. "Before they get the message out there. While we still have the element of surprise."

Alan set his jaw in obstinate determination. It was an expression Edgar remembered from their childhood. From before the vampires, when they were two normal kids – or as normal as two kids could be in Santa Carla – when they had used to fight and disagree. Before they were soldiers. It was a look that had all but disappeared when Edgar had taken command, and it could only be back because he no longer considered his brother to be his commanding officer.

"Strike where, exactly?" Alan asked. "Because unless you've found the hide-outs for both head vampires, and you know which one is your bloodline, all we can do is keep attacking worthless nobodies and new vampires on the boardwalk, probably doing more harm than good."

It made sense. Damn it, it made sense. Alan always had been the better tactician. But it was only better if he had an alternative plan. Otherwise, it was just giving up.

Edgar folded his arms, crossing them tightly across his chest and glared at his brother. He could feel the pull of the vampire now, manipulating his feelings, trying to control him. He didn't care. "So if we don't hunt," he asked, "then what? What's our next move?"

Alan didn't answer.

In the moments since waking, the familiar restlessness that irritated every nerve in his body after the sun went down had begun to act on him. The need for action filled him as his vampire side squirmed and writhed and whispered in his ear in the form of hideous images that flickered across his mind. He tried to ignore it. He sat back down on the side of the bed and attempted to force himself to sit still, but his body reacted of its own accord. He felt his foot tapping compulsively on the ground, and when he made it stop, the other one started up, or his fingers began tapping out a rhythm on the bedside table next to him, with long, strong nails making it loud and noticeable.

He wondered whether he should cut his nails, or whether they would just grow back again. He could ask Alan, but no. He didn't want to talk about those things with him.

Just thinking his brother's name caused Edgar's attention to suddenly focus on the scent of blood drifting from the other side of the trailer. He began to breathe through his mouth, but it was as though the smell was composed of thousands of tiny droplets that were suspended in the air, and every breath drew them into his mouth where they landed on his tongue. He wanted it, needed it. He turned his head away slightly and stilled his tapping fingers by employing them to grip the underside of the bed tightly.

Alan still hadn't answered him. Or maybe he had, and Edgar had been too distracted by his thoughts to notice. "Next move, Alan," he said. "What is it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alan blink. He was staring at him hard, as though he was trying to read his thoughts. Or maybe because he could. Not actually read them, not like Sam had thought, but he knew them, understood them intimately. This whole thing must have been dragging him on an uncomfortable march down memory lane.

"I don't know," Alan told him.

Edgar tried to keep his breathing shallow to reduce the impact of the blood smell filling the air. He suppressed a stab of anger at the confession. He didn't know either. He had no idea at all. Every attempt to come up with a plan was met by a gaping hollow in his mind where he usually kept all his ideas. Even the utterly ridiculous ones that even he would have dismissed out of hand had fled his mind. All that remained was the triumphant chuckle of the vampire as it viewed his helplessness with a sense of intense satisfaction. It had chased all his ideas away.

But Alan, he didn't have a vampire inside him any longer. There was room in there for ideas to germinate and grow. He should be able to come up with something, and the fact that he wasn't doing was infuriating.

"We need to be out there, patrolling. Looking for vampires, getting information from them if we can, just killing them if we can't, one of them has to be the head vampire, maybe we'll get lucky."

Alan shook his head. "You can't go out patrolling. You know that, Edgar."

"I can't just stay here either."

Edgar frowned. Alan's head was still shaking from side to side, slowly but definitely. He turned back to face him, and the temptation of his blood intensified. He looked so damn calm, standing there almost completely still, totally unaffected by the call of the night time. So smug and superior in his knowledge and understanding of the situation, and his certainty that he knew what was best. He, who had once completely given up on regaining his humanity and tried to convince Edgar to do the same. Now he stood there, completely human, refusing to help.

"It wouldn't do any good." Alan said. "The head vampire will be protected, we won't find him skulking around town with the rest of the dregs looking for some junkie to drain. And the ones that we would find there probably wouldn't know anything useful."

Edgar's whole body ached for action, and Alan's argument included a word that made the whole thing meaningless. "Probably?"

"Almost certainly. Vampire hierarchy is like that, the leader's identity is protected. Especially at times like this, when he's in danger from another potential head vampire."

"Then..." Edgar pried his fingers loose from the underside of the bed and rested his head in his hands, propped up on his knees. He couldn't finish what he wanted to say, he wasn't even sure what he had been planning on saying. It was all he could do not to moan in despair.

He heard a quiet rustle of fabric as Alan began to move. The scent of blood faded and then intensified as his motion disturbed the air in the trailer. Edgar ignored it, but he was so hungry. He thought of the bottles of blood on the table and in the refrigerator. Could he?

No. Not in front of Alan.

"I know it's hard," Alan told him. Edgar could tell from the sound of his voice and the scent of his blood that he was standing right next to him, a little to the front. Edgar remained as he was, head resting in his hands, face aimed downward, eyes closed. A hand touched his shoulder lightly. "We'll fix it," Alan promised, "but it's going to take time. There's no point rushing in, killing vampires at random, asking questions like that, it's just going to drive them deeper underground. That might even be why they moved out of the house Daniel told us about."

Shit. The argument made sense. The monster shifted inside him and began whispering in his ear again, he ignored it, but it was frighteningly convincing, and this time it wasn't talking about Alan's blood.

"The best thing would be to lie low and wait for something to happen. Daniel's still listening out for information, maybe he'll get something. Maybe the war will start and one of the head vamp will die. If we're lucky, the winner won't be the one you're linked to. You'll just suddenly become human again one night. If we're unlucky, at least we'll only be looking for one vampire."

"I can't just wait," Edgar finally forced out the words. Alan removed his hand from his shoulder and took a step away. With considerable effort, Edgar lifted his head and turned to look at him. "I can't," he repeated.

Alan nodded. "I know, but you don't have a choice. Run out there trying to hunt, and you're risking your life. And your humanity." He paused, licked his lips and glanced away. "I know you don't want to hear this, but plan A didn't work and until a plan B comes along, you're going to have to live with this for a while."

No.

_No!_

He felt a jolt as the monster grinned triumphantly, seizing hold of his fear and his despair and rising to the surface, he didn't fight it. He couldn't fight it; he didn't have the energy. But instead of coming all the way up, pushing its way out of him in the form of fangs and claws, it stopped. It sat somewhere between its suppressed state and where it wanted to be, waiting, feeding the wave of emotions, twisting them to its own purposes. Edgar could feel it happening, and he was completely powerless to prevent it.

"I'll help you," Alan continued, "and it won't be for long, just until something comes up,"

Alan wanted him to stop trying, the vampire in him translated. Edgar shook his head. The monster was getting stronger, the longer he waited, the worse it would be. "I won't just give up," he said. "I give up, I die."

"We're not giving up," Alan insisted. "But like I said at the start, it might take time."

The vampire tightened its grip on his mind, still not asserting control, but making its presence felt strongly, like a thousand flies buzzing inside his mind. Telling him things that he didn't want to hear, things that made perfect sense. Alan was betraying him. He didn't know why, but that was what was happening. Was he in league with the vampires? Or was it some personal agenda that Edgar didn't understand?

Edgar got to his feet, no longer able to contain the restlessness. He began to pace the floor rapidly, taking the same path he always used. If nothing else, if he wasn't cured soon he, was going to have to replace the flooring. "Waiting for a lead, hoping that someone's going to turn up with information or that it's just going to fix itself. Not trying. It's giving up, Alan. It's..." Suddenly, all the pieces came together and formed a complete image that made perfect sense. He stopped his pacing, spun on the spot until he was facing his brother and fixed him with a stare. "This is exactly what you did. You sat around drinking animal blood, not doing anything to help yourself. Not even caring about the ideas I came up with. You just... You..."

"I lost hope," Alan finished for him.

"You gave up."

Alan flinched, and then looked away for a moment. When he looked back, uncertainty shone through his eyes. He didn't nod, or shake his head, he simply stood there like he didn't know what to do or say. Like a kid caught by his parents doing something he shouldn't, trying and failing to come up with an excuse.

"You're not even denying it," Edgar shot at him. He had expected a fight, or at the very least a denial. He had wanted it. Needed it. Needed it like he needed the blood in his brother's veins.

Alan shook his head, but still no denial came. "I'm not going to give up on you," he promised.

"No?" Edgar sneered.

The vampire was playing with his emotions now, tightening its grip, feeding the negative, the anger, the paranoia. It was so blatant, he could feel it happening, yet it was somehow so hard to tell the difference between what he was really feeling and what was being forced onto him. He couldn't tell what was him, and what was the vampire. Or were they both the same thing? It was helping him to see things more clearly, and suddenly everything Alan was doing and saying made perfect sense.

"No." Alan told him calmly.

"So then you'll just leave me like this for a while before you do anything about it, right? Let me get a taste of what it was like for you. A bit of revenge?"

"No!" Alan's eyes were wide, he took a step forward, toward Edgar, hands at his sides, palms outward. "You know that's not true. This isn't you, Edgar. It's the vampire talking. Just try to..."

"I'm not going to do what you tell me, Alan. I'm head Frog. Me, not you." He began to back away toward the door as he spoke. The scent of Alan's blood filled the air, his heart was beating faster, pumping it much more quickly around his veins. He had to get out of there. He had to get away, and he had to get into the night. He had to do something. Anything.

His back touched the door, and fingers reached out behind him, twisted the door handle. Alan was still looking at him beseechingly, his lips moved in pointless meaningless attempts to talk him down, but it wouldn't work. He didn't know what was real any more. Alan would never do that to him, but yet he was doing. It was the only thing that made sense, and the monster in him kept whispering and whispering as it scratched at the underside of his skin, and the smell of blood filled the air.

The door swung open behind him, and he almost fell backwards onto the gravel outside. Trembling with excess adrenaline, he turned and ran, needing to put as much distance between himself and his brother as he could. His foot caught a loose rock on the ground, and he felt himself falling forward, but he didn't hit the ground. The air continued to rush around him as though he were still running, but he wasn't, his legs were no longer moving.

He looked around, he looked down. He was several yards above the ground.

He was flying.


	11. Chapter 11

"No! Edgar, wait!"

Alan realized a split second before Edgar opened the door what he was going to do, but his human speed was no match for the half vampire strength in Edgar's muscles as he turned and began to run. Alan watched in horror as his brother appeared to trip over something on the floor. He fell forwards, but never hit the ground.

He flew shakily at first, uncertainly; keeping low to the ground as though he were afraid that he might drop out of the air. Even as Alan watched, his confidence seemed to grow and he increased his speed and altitude, quickly disappearing out of sight into the expanse of blackness that was the night sky.

Alan called his name again, bellowing it into the night in the hopes that Edgar was still close enough to hear. Nothing happened. He stood alone outside his trailer, staring upward at the stars without seeing them. He waited, hoping that Edgar would return. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to, he went back inside, sat down on the couch and resisted the urge to break something.

Edgar had been right. He had given up.. He hadn't been able to deny it because it was true, and Edgar knew that because he had seen it with his own eyes.

By the time that Alan had returned, he had spent years hunting the head vampire, learning how to survive as a half vampire and how to live with what he had become. He had been forced to accept that humanity was lost to him. It had been that or lose his sanity. Years more of hunting, searching for something he no longer believed he would find, would have driven him mad. He had chosen to survive as well as he could, create a life for himself, or some semblance of a life.

When he had left, he had vowed to himself that he would not to return to Edgar as a half vampire, but once he accepted that he would never be human again he had been forced to decide between the conflicting desires to keep his vow and to see his brother again. His choice meant that after years of separation while he searched desperately for a cure, he had returned to Edgar a shadow of the man he had been, a half vampire no longer clinging to the hope of regaining what he had lost, and concentrating all of his efforts instead on maintaining his current state, of not taking that final leap over the edge and into the eternal darkness.

So, yes. He had given up. But not without a fight. That was what Edgar had never seen.

He left the door to the trailer open as he waited, glancing out occasionally, hoping to see his brother returning, but there remained no sign of him. He continued to wait through the night, keeping one eye on his watch and the other on the door.

Perhaps as he waited, he slept. He had no memory of closing his eyes, but he was still recovering from his head injury, and before he knew it the sky on the horizon was beginning to lighten from black to the deep, rich blue that signaled the beginning of the end of the night. Dawn was approaching fast. He glanced around the trailer, hoping that if he had slept, Edgar had crept inside, but his brother was still missing.

He got to his feet and walked to the door, worry gnawing at his insides, and looked around. The air appeared stained dark blue by the retreating night time, but the dark was fading fast and there was still no sign of Edgar. He considered going out searching for him, but he knew it would be hopeless. He had had hours to get away, and vampires – even half ones – moved fast. By now, if he wanted, Edgar could be anywhere within a hundred miles of the trailer. And even if he had only gone into town, the chances of finding him miniscule. Hopefully, as the sky continued to lighten and the sun edged closer to rising, he would be driven home by the daylight. If not, Alan had no idea where he would stay.

He stepped outside and sat down heavily on the step outside the trailer, playing back their final conversation in his head as he watched the world grow lighter. Despite what the coming daylight meant for Edgar, he still couldn't help but love watching the sunrise. As a child, it had meant safety; that the monsters would have to flee. Then, for years, he had dreaded it as a reminder of what he no longer was. Now, it was simply wonderful, no matter what else was happening, the fact that he could watch the sunrise made things better. For a few moments, at least.

Edgar's accusations had hurt. The idea that he in some way wanted Edgar to stay a half vampire was ridiculous and offensive. It was the last thing he wanted; the last thing that he would ever want for anyone, his own brother least of all. And Edgar knew that. If he was himself, he would have known that. But Edgar had always been a little paranoid, it just his nature and considering what he did with his life, maybe even a good thing. But vampire in him was clever, and it was twisting that trait, making it worse; Making him see enemies in the people that wanted to help him and isolating him from his allies.

Edgar would never had said these things to him without the vampire twisting his thoughts and emotions. But even now, after everything, Alan still wasn't sure whether the monster inside was another entity entirely, or just the fears and innermost thought and feelings of the person infected being dragged closer to the surface.

Whether or not Edgar really thought Alan wanted him to experience what he had, he had successfully forced Alan into his role, showing him how it felt to be left behind.

Alan rested his chin on his hand and slumped on the step, still staring with fading hope at the slowly lightening landscape around him.

* * *

Flight.

Once, a long time ago, Edgar had dreamed of flying. He had soared over the ocean, approaching the Santa Carla boardwalk. He had swooped low over the heads of the tourists and listened as they shrieked in surprise and delight at the sudden appearance of a superhero. He didn't remember much of the dream, but when he had woken, he had realized that people don't fly. Vampires fly. And he had never again dreamed of flight.

He hadn't meant to take to the air. The idea of using any of the abilities that half vampirism gave him was repugnant to him. But instinct had taken over, and flight had seemed natural. He had needed to get away, and he had gone where Alan couldn't follow him.

It had been frightening at first. Suspended in the air, far above the ground. But it seemed right, somehow, in a way that he couldn't put into words, even inside his own head. It felt as though he had suddenly accessed a part of himself that had been aching to be used. He knew instinctively what to do; how to move forward, to turn left and right, how to take himself higher and lower in the air.

He moved carefully at first, slowly and shakily, like a kid riding a bicycle without training wheels for the first time, but as confidence increased so did his speed and stability, and it felt so good. For the first time since he had been forced to drink he was free and unburdened, able to concentrate on nothing but the action of flying. Even the source of the gift no longer worried him. For a few moments, he was happy.

He dropped lower in the sky and slowed slightly, marveling at the feeling of the warm night air rushing against his skin. He touched the highest leaves of the trees and stared down at the ground like a bird of prey hunting with its powerful vision for those creatures further down the food chain.

That was a sobering thought, and in an instant the joy of flight was replaced by a dull horror at what he was doing. A vampire could hunt like this; patrolling the skies, swooping down on some unsuspecting human like the predator that they were. They did it all the time.

He dropped lower to the ground, meaning to land and walk, but he glanced around himself and realized how far away he was from anything. Flight was fast, and in a matter of minutes, he was more than half way to the edge of the town. He touched down on stony ground not unlike the land where his trailer sat.

He knew, without knowing how, that the road into San Cazador was several miles to the south. Behind him was his home. He desperately wanted to return, to shut himself inside and pretend that he hadn't just done what he had, but Alan would be there. His brother would be furious and worried and fighting the instinct to follow him, but he would have no idea where to go, and in the end he would opt to stay where he was, assuming that Edgar would return. It was what Edgar would do, and they thought alike.

That meant he couldn't go back. Not yet. He couldn't see Alan again. He needed time to sort out the jumble of thoughts in his head, work out which ones were his and which had been placed there by the monster under his skin; which ones were right and which were the product of stress and paranoia. He already regretted what he had said to Alan, but a little part of him still wondered whether he had been right; whether on some level Alan did want him to understand what he had gone through. It may not even be a conscious thought, but it explained completely the way that his brother had been acting and the things that he had been saying.

Edgar glanced back the way he had come. His trailer was sanctuary, he was safe there, but hiding away would accomplish nothing. Ahead of him lay the town of San Cazador, populated by two growing armies of vampires, each determined that their side would win. He had caused the mess, by killing the original head vampire and freeing Alan and the others. Now he found himself an unwilling player in a war that he had started. A war that, in order to save himself, he had no choice but to end.

He could fight, and he would fight. Even if all he could do was save one other innocent person from death or turning, it would be worthwhile. If he could find out something that he could use, so much the better. He had gotten into this to protect the innocent from the monsters, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Instinctively, he checked his belt for weapons. Only one stake, but that combined with the enhanced strength and speed he had played about with the night before should be enough. He glanced around quickly, making certain that there was no one nearby and then, with a deep breath, willed himself to fly.

Nothing happened.

Edgar frowned and glanced around again, feeling vaguely silly. He pointed himself in the direction of San Cazador, and jumped, concentrating on ignoring gravity and continuing to rise into the air. He landed about a second later. He scratched his chin and stared upward. Maybe a running jump would do it? He considered it but thought better of the idea. If it didn't work, he was likely to land flat on his face, and although he might heal up quickly, it would still hurt.

Of course, his brief, accidental flight a moment ago had almost been a very ungraceful trip over an unexpected rock. Flight had been an instinct that had taken over when he wasn't thinking. Now, on the ground and staring up at the vivid, star-covered night sky, he couldn't stop thinking, and the thought foremost in his mind was that he didn't want to use the abilities that his misfortune had granted him. He needed too, and he intended to, but he didn't want to. His own obstinate refusal to accept his reality was keeping him earthbound, stranded in the middle of nowhere.

He continued to stare upward, remembering the sensation of flight; the wind rushing around his ears the freedom he had felt as he controlled his speed and the height at which he flew, looking downward and seeing nothing but air between him and the ground so far below. It had been exhilarating. He forced himself to concentrate on the wonder of the experience, forgetting everything that he didn't want to remember as he looked up into the night sky in all its beauty and willed himself to rise up and become a part of it.

Slowly, he felt himself begin to move. Experiencing it now as a deliberate action rather than an accidental one allowed him to feel himself rise into the air. It was a strange and impossible motion. The weight of his body didn't appear to decrease, nothing lifted him and he didn't even have to move his limbs. The fact that he could do it went against everything that he knew about the world so jarringly that he almost fought it instinctively, but he forced himself to ignore the apprehension and let instinct take over once again. Within moments, he was in the air, flying toward his destination.

Common sense told him to come to a landing outside of town where he wouldn't be seen and walk to a populated area. Impatience and eagerness to prove himself told him that walking all that way would take too long. He stayed in the air all the way to the beach, where he landed carefully on the sand, looking around in all directions to ensure that there was no one around to see him. Even if there had been, the night was dark to human eyes. In an unlit place he could land ten feet in front of someone and they wouldn't know.

He walked quickly over the sand and climbed the wooden steps built every ten yards or so to allow access to the beach for the hundreds of tourists that, for whatever reason, flocked there every day. He had never understood the point of the beach, other than as a barrier between the ocean and the land, of course. He had nothing against it, it was nice enough to look at on those rare occasions when it wasn't overfilled with sweating tourists and screaming kids, but if he was looking for something to do with his downtime, laying on a towel baking in the sun wouldn't be it.

He smiled to himself in an ironic way as he climbed the sand covered steps. It wasn't like sunbathing was going to be something he had to worry about for the time being, anyway.

Alan had never liked the beach either, but five years in the dark had changed his opinion. Now, he went there most days, just to sit in the sun and watch the world happen around him, with this strange, content smile on his face. As he climbed the final step up onto the concrete of San Cazador's woefully inadequate boardwalk, a stab of jealousy surprised him and Edgar turned and looked out over the gray and black nighttime beach. He wondered, when – if – he was human again, whether he would find himself equally drawn to this place. He doubted it, but then, who knows what is going to happen in the future? The universe had certainly conspired to surprise him up to now.

"Hey man."

Edgar turned around sharply and found himself face to face with a kid of maybe twenty. He was taller than Edgar by a head and shoulders, muscular and tan. He grinned in that stupid, open-mouthed way that only drunks can achieve.

"Late night swim?" he asked, "Left any pretty girls down there for me, or was it a solo mission?" The drunk laughed out loud and Edgar almost recoiled as the smell of beer overrode the scent of his blood. He turned away and walked down the boardwalk to the busier end, where the clubs that had proved successful for Alan and Zoe were located.

A tactic occurred to him. One that frightened him, and one fraught with danger, but one that would work as long as he could remain in control. The kid now making his way noisily and clumsily down the steps to the beach had smelled like food. The blood of a vampire would provide him with no nourishment. Using another one of the hated yet so very useful abilities half vampirism granted him, he should be able to effectively differentiate between human and bloodsucker without having to rely on his usual, time-tested but not foolproof, human methods.

It was late, and several of the bars and clubs had already stopped admitting new people, others had closed down and locked their doors. Edgar stood, shrouded in shadow, watching one of the few remaining open clubs. Inside, it sounded like there was heavy construction underway, a slow, rhythmic thumping, the beat of what passed for music.

The whole area reeked. A combination of human sweat, vomit, urine, alcohol and, of course, blood. He had been here before, many times, and he had never been aware of it. Vampire senses. The other smells managed to mask the frighteningly tempting scent of human blood pumping through the veins of ever person that passed. He felt nauseous, almost as badly as he had when he had sniffed the garlic. It was a good thing, it served to suppress his unnatural appetite.

He stood, waiting, carefully assessing every person that walked or staggered past. Each one appeared and smelled completely human. Despite the stench of the other smells in the air, he felt the hunger rising higher and fought to suppress it.

He stood in the darkness, observing unnoticed for hours, the crowd thinned little by little, and eventually the music was silenced and the doors to the club closed. Edgar sighed, his human side frustrated by the lack of opportunity for a fight, and the vampire in him hungry and distressed as so many potential meals had walked by.

There were no visible signs yet of the coming dawn, even to his overly light-sensitive vampire eyes, the sky remained dark, yet he could feel it coming. It was a nervous, itching feeling underneath his skin and a compulsion to seek shelter before it was too late. The vampire in him making its presence and its fear of the light felt. He ignored it. Soon, it would be impossible. When the light began to brighten, the need to seek shelter would become too much to bear. But for now, he remained in control.

He walked out of the shadows, into the well lit area of the boardwalk and walked slowly, keeping up his careful observation of those around him. He paid particular attention to those walking alone, especially when they appeared sober and in control. Not that there were many that fit that description.

As he walked, he felt eyes on him, a creepy, pervasive feeling of being observed. He turned his head slowly, attempting to appear casual, and scanned the surrounding area. There was no one around but a young man standing alone by the railing topped wall overlooking the beach. He appeared to be no older than nineteen,with short, styled hair and the kind of clothing typical of the others Edgar had observed throughout the night. He leaned one shoulder against the wall, and glanced around him casually, as though he were waiting for someone.

Edgar continued to walk, slowing his pace slightly and keeping half an eye on the man, the only other person nearby, as he neared him. He inhaled slowly through his nose, only half hoping not to detect human blood. He was itching for a fight, but this would be the first time he fought a vampire as a fellow monster, he didn't know what was going to happen. But he knew, even before he was close enough to detect the scent, that he would not find it. The monster in him could sense its own kind.

The vampire watched him as he approached. He remained completely still. If he knew what Edgar was, and Edgar's ability to sense him meant that he probably did, he obviously didn't anticipate that the half vampire approaching him was any threat. Edgar touched the stake at his belt, ensuring that it was still hidden from view.

"Go away, newbie," the vampire told him in a disinterested tone as soon as he was within earshot. "I was here first, and it's slim enough pickings as it is."

Edgar ignored him and continued forward.

The vampire sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look," he said, "you'll get the hang of this stuff once you've turned, if you live long enough, but for now just take my word for it, yeah? When one of your superiors tells you to get lost, you do what they say. And if you're wondering, right now we're all your su..." he broke off abruptly as Edgar pulled out his stake and flung himself forward, half running half flying, both with vampire strength and speed, toward him.

The vampire ducked and stepped clumsily out of the way. His shoulder hit the metal railing with a loud clang and he cried out, not in pain but in anger.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?"

Edgar struck again, kicking with his left foot and then immediately swinging the stake. This time, it made contact with the vampire's body, piercing the fabric of his t-shirt and plunging into the flesh of his stomach. This time, the cry was one of agony. Attempting to escape, he half flew, half fell through the gap in the railings and onto the beach, where he handed in a heap.

Edgar jumped. In one leap, he cleared the four foot barrier and landed with surprising grace on the sand below.

The vampire began to back away, still on the ground. His injury was no doubt painful, but left alone and able to feed, he would recover quickly. Edgar threw himself forward and pinned the vampire on the damp sand. The creature struggled pitiably, but in vain.

"Where do I find the head vampire?" Edgar said. He brandished the stake above the vampire's heart, high enough that he would be able to see it. "Who's in charge, where do they sleep?"

The vampire gasped in pain as Edgar pressed his knee into the the stake wound. Agony contorted his still human-looking face. He hadn't even had the chance to show his true self.

"Where?" Edgar said again, low and dangerous. He moved the stake closer to the vampire's heart, and the vampire watched it with wide, terrified eyes.

He shook his head, rolling it from side to side in the sand. "I'm not going... to tell you anything," he said. His voice was thick with pain, but underneath that, Edgar could hear a mocking tone. "You'll kill me anyway. You're a hunter...you want to be human." Every few words, he paused to draw a deep breath, which he used to continue speaking. Edgar didn't even know if a full vampire needed to breathe, but air was a necessity when it came to speech. "I won't tell you, that way... I still win."

The vampire smiled, despite his pain. Edgar said nothing. He wouldn't be able to reason with this one, he didn't have the necessary tools to encourage him to speak, all he could do was put him down. He raised the stake once more, and thrust it downward into the vampire's heart. The monster made no sound but a surprised gasp of pain. Edgar felt the body stiffen suddenly beneath him, and leapt to his feet, backing away in case he came to a violent end, but the vampire simply appeared to collapsed in on himself, disintegrating and becoming one with the surrounding beach. He left behind his clothes, still partially filled, as though someone had attempted to build a man out of sand.

Edgar stood for a moment, simply looking at the strange shape in the sand that had been a vampire only seconds before. One slip, one moment of allowing his control to waver, and that would be his fate. That, or something similar. He wondered what form his death would talk, if it ever came to it. He hoped it would be a quiet one.

He took a deep breath of beach air. It was cleaner here, and fresher, then he took once more to the sky.

For a while, he patrolled the sky above San Cazador in a similar manner to how he had once patrolled the streets on Santa Carla; observant, eager. Young. Because in recent years, his thinking had shifted. He no longer saw himself as a young man, and in his line of work old age was practically an impossibility, cutting out the idea of middle age altogether. For a hunter, there was only young, and too old, and for some time now, Edgar had wondered whether he was teetering on the edge of the divide between the two.

Now, with vampire blood in his veins, Edgar felt young and strong and ready to take on the whole world. The fight with the vampire on the beach had proved that it was more than just his imagination. He had never been able to fight like that; go head to head with a full vampire, alone and with nothing but a stake, and finish him so quickly. And that was his first attempt. He couldn't wait to see what he could do when he had had a bit of practice.

Or rather, no. That was a question to which he didn't want an answer.

Somewhere in the streets below him, the silence of the night was shattered by a piercing, terrified scream. Edgar adjusted his course and dropped downward from the sky, following the sound.

He found the source quickly and this time there was no moment of uncertainty as to whether he was dealing with a vampire or not. The monster was showing its fangs, literally, and the woman on the receiving end of the demonstration didn't appear to be happy about it.

The screaming had stopped by the time he landed, replaced by a quiet moaning, whimpering sound. She had backed up as far as she could go, and was on the ground with her back pressed against a brick wall. Her expression was one of abject terror. The vampire was leering over her, eyes glowing red, fangs bared. He could have killed her easily in the time it had taken Edgar to arrive, but this one obviously liked to play with his food. She might not have agreed if he had told her, but that made tonight her lucky night.

Edgar didn't stop to identify himself or give the vampire the chance to defend himself. He struck from the air, pulling out his stake from his holster even as he swooped downward, increasing his speed as he did.

As he neared the vampire, he adjusted his position in the air, holding his stake at his waist in a tight grip, he lined himself up to ram the monster with his shoulder.

It was a direct hit. The vampire, caught unsuspecting and unready for the sudden impact of a fast moving, man sized object directly into his chest, was thrown backwards and landed on the ground. Edgar struggled not to cry out. The impact had hurt, badly. His shoulder throbbed loudly, sending pulses of agony down his arm and through his chest with every beat of his heart.

His target, however, was much less discrete. He leapt easily to his feet and threw himself at Edgar with a roar of rage. Fangs still bared and face still contorted into the true face of the monster inside him. Edgar ducked out of instinct more than anything else. This one was strong. Stronger than the last one, which probably meant older, and further up the pecking order. It was too bad that Edgar wasn't going to be able to ask him any questions. This one had never been going to be an interrogation, it had been all about saving the girl, and now about saving himself too, because if he didn't win this fight, and quickly, it was all going to be over.

His right shoulder was nothing but a mass of agony the whole arm had been rendered useless. By some miracle, he had managed to keep hold of the stake in his clenched fist. He took hold of it in his left, leaving his right dangling uselessly by his side. Fighting left handed was more difficult, but he could do it. He had made sure of that, training long and hard for a situation just like this one. A hunter needed to be prepared for anything that might happen.

He swung at the vampire, but he was fast and ready for the strike. He ducked and sidestepped expertly, making Edgar's speedy, preside attack appear clumsy and predictable. The vampire smiled, showing terrible fangs, stained already with the blood of a previous kill.

Edgar attacked again, this time moving to the vampire's left before swinging at the last second to the right. The stake brushed his side as he avoided him once more.

"What are you doing?" the vampire asked. "We're on the same side."

Edgar paused, briefly in his attack to glance at the vampire's face. Its tone had been genuinely puzzled, and any other time, Edgar would have taken his words to mean that one vampire shouldn't attack another, but this was different. It was almost as though the vampire expected to be attacked by another of his kind. One on the side of the other master, for example.

This creature was of the same bloodline as him. Its master was his. Its master's death would free Edgar.

He felt a moment of exhilaration as he moved a step closer to finding the key to escaping from this nightmare.

"There, see," the vampire said, clearly encouraged by the pause in the assault. "Didn't anyone explain this to you?" He sighed, "No, some new punk turned you and abandoned you, right? That's the way we do it now, apparently." It shook its head in apparent disgust. On the ground, still pressed against the wall, the girl whimpered again.

Edgar's body remained tense, but he listened intently, hoping to discover a clue that could lead him to the next piece of the puzzle.

The vampire glanced at his victim, and then allowed his face to fade back into a human guise. Fangs retracted, eyes turned from red to brown. "Have her," he said. "I already ate tonight. Have her, turn completely, and then I'll explain a few things to you."

The vampire spoke in a completely reasonable tone, as though he were suggesting they have a chat over a beer, not the corpse of a teenage girl. He was offering answers, but in order to get them, he was asking Edgar to do the unthinkable; the thing that would make the answers to his questions moot anyway.

"Go ahead," the vampire said. "Trust me, things will be a lot clearer once you drink."

Edgar lowered his stake slightly and edged closer to the girl. She attempted to shrink further into the wall. Her head tucked down protected her neck, though it was more likely to be instinct than any kind of knowledge of vampires beyond what she had read in romance novels. The smell of the blood in her veins was intoxicating. Like the promise of oxygen to a drowning man.

Before he could get close enough that the scent became overwhelming and he lost himself in bloodlust, he turned and looked at the vampire. It looked eager, as though watching Edgar kill an innocent girl would be just as enjoyable as doing it itself. It smiled encouragingly.

Edgar turned back to the girl, readied his stake in front of him where the vampire couldn't see, and in one swift, fluid movement, turned and threw the stake like a javelin.

His aim was perfect. The sharp piece of wood flew through quickly the air in a straight, unwavering line, propelled by his unnatural strength despite the relative weakness of his left arm to his right. The vampire had no time to react to the unexpected attack. The stake struck him directly in the heart, and although his mouth opened to speak or scream, even half-vampire ears could detect no sound.

This one went out in flames. A quick burst of fire that appeared to consume the body from the inside out, spreading from the heart. Within seconds, there was nothing left of him but ash.

Edgar turned back to the girl. She had not moved the entire fight, terror had held her immobile through the escape opportunity his attack on the vampire had provided her, and now that the monster was gone, she remained on the ground, back pushed against the brick wall, chest rising and falling quickly as she hyperventilated her panic, heart pounding much to fast, propelling blood around her body.

He couldn't just leave her like that. Edgar held out a hand to the girl. She appeared not to notice, too lost in the terror to realize that the danger had passed. "Hey," he said, "you're safe. He's gone."

The girl's breathing slowed almost imperceptibly, and she glanced up. Seeing the vampire had vanished, she took a deep, relieved breath, but made no move to get off of the floor.

"Get up," Edgar tried. "Go home."

She looked at him for the first time. Her expression was full of relief and gratitude, but also left-over terror. She reached up and took his hand in hers. Edgar helped her to her feet. Before he could take back his hand, the girl rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him and enveloping him in a tight hug.

Edgar froze. His entire world contracted and the smell of her blood was all that he knew. It surrounded him, it was the most wonderful thing he had ever known, and her neck, the artery there pulsing in time with the still too quick beat of her heart was only inches from his face.

He felt the monster rush to the surface, pushing its way out of him in the form of fangs and eyes red with bloodlust. He pushed her back, struggling to free himself from her embrace. "No!" he cried. "Get away!"

The monster urged him to hold onto her, his body struggled to respond, but his human half managed to muster a burst of strength that allowed him to push her away. She stumbled as she almost fell back to the ground, and then looked at him, first in confusion and then in abject terror. She screamed.

"Run away," Edgar told her. He heard himself shout the command in a raspy, struggling voice as the vampire inside him tried to shut down his human half. All it would take would be one second of loss of control, and the monster in him would have its way. If it suppressed his ability to fight right now for even a moment, it would win, and he would be lost forever.

Rather than risk the girl passing up another chance to escape, Edgar took to the sky, desperately trying to put as much distance between himself and her as he possibly could.

* * *

Away from the temptation, the bloodlust abated slightly. Edgar flew, no destination in mind, his only goal to avoid everyone. He needed blood. Even though taking himself away from the source of the bloodlust had provided him with a slight relief, he could still feel the need; it clawed at him viciously, scratching and demanding sustenance, and only one thing would satisfy it. The moment he got close to another human, he was going to attack. He knew it. He hated it, but he knew that it was true.

That meant that there was nowhere he could go. Even his own trailer, if he could make his way back there before the immanent sunrise, was not safe. Alan may still be there. Probably would still be there, waiting for him.

Even thinking about his brother and the substance that ran through his veins made the monster in him cry out in anticipation. He couldn't go there. Not only because of that. Even if he somehow managed to resist, or if Alan was able to fight him off and he could drink the bottled blood instead, going back to Alan would only mean that their fight would continue. It would only mean Alan insisting on inaction, and Edgar couldn't allow that.

He flew in aimless circles over the city. Slowly, the sky began to lighten. The sun was not yet above the horizon, but exhaustion began to wear him down. His energy began to drain away under the assault of the sun's rays. It was almost a relief; the bloodlust finally fell away, replaced instead by the kind of exhaustion he had only known once or twice in his life before he had been forced to drink.

The ability to fly abandoned him, and dropped lower and lower in the sky. He landed on the beach just as the first rays of sun spilled over the horizon and into the world. His shoulder throbbed harder, and his body demanded to rest, even if it meant simply laying down on the sand and closing his eyes.

He fought sleep now just as fiercely as he had fought the bloodlust. He refused to lay or even sit down. Even a moment of rest would be a surrender to the power of the daylight, and to lose consciousness here would be dangerous. Unfortunately, he reflected to himself as he looked around through heavily lidded eyes, he had nowhere else to go. Now that he could no longer fly, he couldn't even go home if he wanted to.

Fighting to ignore the growing heaviness in his limbs, he struggled to think. Finally, the solution came to him, the only possible place that he could go, where he could shelter from the sun, where he would be no danger to the human population. Where he could get the sustenance that he so desperately needed.

He had been distracted when they had driven to Daniel's strange warehouse home, and practically catatonic when they had left, but he thought that he could find it again if he had to, and he really did have to.

Pushing aside every other thought, the pain in he shoulder, the mind-crushing exhaustion, the still present bloodlust underneath it all, Edgar began to walk. Face cast downward, glancing up only occasionally to check for landmarks, every step a struggle, he walked to the one place where he knew he would be safe.

Under the intense glare of what was, in reality, a weak and watery dawn light Edgar found it impossible to keep track of time. He concentrated all of his attention on the gargantuan task of placing one foot in front of the other and moving himself forward. The streets were deserted; the clubbers – those that had survived the night unscathed – were now safely tucked away in their beds and only the very earliest risers of the daytime people would be awake yet, and none of them appeared to have ventured outdoors yet.

The pain in his shoulder had dropped to a dull but impossible to ignore ache that throbbed anew each time a foot hit the ground. Left, right, left, right, never stopping for fear that he wouldn't start again.

Finally, he reached the garbage-strewn, stinking alley that Alan had driven him to only days earlier. The high walls around him blocked some of the light of the sun, but it did nothing to ease the exhaustion that had settled into every cell of his body. He raised his left fist and pounded hard on the metal door, and waited.

Nothing happened.

As though stopping moving had allowed the tiredness to catch up with him, a wave of fatigue swept over him and Edgar sank to his knees on the filthy ground. His final thought before he lost consciousness was to curse his own stupidity. Of course Daniel wouldn't answer the door. He was a half vampire. By now, he too would have succumbed to the draining effect of the daytime.

At least laying here in the garbage in this long abandoned place, he was unlikely to be disturbed by some innocent person that he might attack.

At some point as he lay there, maybe hours later, maybe only seconds, he felt hands anchoring underneath his armpits, dragging him backwards along the filthy ground and inside. A metal door clanged closed, and the daylight was blocked completely.

"You're damn lucky I had that surveillance camera installed, Eddie," said a voice that sounded almost as exhausted as he felt, then sleep dragged him back down and he lost consciousness again.


End file.
